The Crucible of Fear
by Sawyer Fan
Summary: Allan Quatermain is called to Africa to stop a threat that could destroy his past as well as his future. Will the League be able to face their deepest fears and win over a foe who controls fear itself?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimers: Own nothing except the ones I made up, which isn't much...LOL. Only writing for fun, the rights belong to the owners of the LXG characters, Fox and whoever else.

PG to PG-13 rating for violence and some language

Mentions bits of my story "LXG 2: The Sequel" Also characters from "King Solomon's Mines" are used as well for my literary muse.

This was writtenfor an LXG fic challenge....

THE CRUCIBLE OF FEAR

BY SAWYERFAN

"_We all live in fear of something_

_We all disappear like nothing_

_We all live in fear of something_

_We all equal less than nothing."_

From "Less than Nothing" from Demon Hunter

A soft breeze flew across the conning tower of the submersible craft, the Nautilus. It's creator, Captain Nemo smiled under his dark, heavy beard and mustache, enjoying the beautiful day that spread out gloriously before him.

Taking a deep breath of the clean, fresh air, the former native of India couldn't imagine anything spoiling this perfect day, but the clanking sounds of someone climbing the ladder up to the deck shattered that illusion. The crewman who decoded the messages sent to the Nautilus' state of the art equipment was before Captain Nemo seconds later, a piece of paper held out expectantly.

Nemo took the message and sighed. It was a urgent plea to come to Africa. His fellow passenger and teammate, Allan Quatermain, would have to be notified immediately. The renowned hunter and adventurer loved that continent more than his homeland of England, and whoever had sent that message obviously knew that as well. Quatermain wouldn't say no to Africa.

Glancing at his subordinate, Nemo gave the man an order in his deep, rich voice. "Tell the first mate to set an immediate course for Africa."

"Yes, Captain," the crewman nodded, quickly leaving to do as ordered.

Taking one, final breath of fresh air, the captain smirked before turning to go back inside. "Did you catch all of that, Mr. Skinner?" he asked to the seemingly empty tower.

A soft chuckle met Nemo's ears, signaling the presence of gentlemen thief, Rodney Skinner. "Guess I should be getting the others?" the totally invisible rogue answered in his cockney accent.

"It would be appreciated," Nemo smiled. "I will summon Mr. Quatermain."

"There goes my sunbathing," the thief groaned to himself, heading down the hold after the captain.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Do your recognize the name?" Nemo asked Quatermain as the seven members of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen gathered together in the captain's strategy room.

Quatermain's eyes took on a faraway look as he answered. "It's an old friend of mine."

"Who is it?" Special Agent Tom Sawyer spoke up. The youngest member of the seven, Tom craved adventure, and a trip to Africa sounded exciting, not to mention get him back on dry land again. There wasn't much to do aboard a submersible ship.

The old hunter glanced over at his youthful protege, giving him a stern look. "I'm going alone, so I won't bore you or the others with the details."

"But," Tom began to protest.

"Thomas, it's final." Quatermain looked around the table, challenging anyone else to defy his authority as leader of the group. "It involves ancient history, none of which you are familiar with."

"Bet I read about it," Sawyer grumbled under his breath, referring to the many enthralling stories he had read as a child growing up in Missouri about the legendary Allan Quatermain.

Rolling his eyes, Allan frowned in consternation. "The Allan Quatermain in those infernal magazines of yours would be too afraid to tie his shoes, let alone face the dangers I did."

A tiny smile lit on the American spy's handsome face. "All the better reason to let me come along...set me straight on how things really happened."

"Maybe Mr. Q has a secret to hide?" half-vampire, Mina Harker inserted coyly.

"I, for one, would be more than happy to stay on board than to roam around in that godforsaken land," the dashing immortal, Dorian Gray, commented.

"It wasn't all that bad," Dr. Henry Jekyll pointed out in a quiet tone.

"And when were you ever in Africa?" Dorian sniped in the doctor's direction.

"When we buried Allan," Skinner replied. "Course you weren't there, 'cause you were dead yourself."

"Don't remind me," Dorian growled.

"What? No pleasant memories of Hell?" the invisible man shot back.

"Gentlemen, please," Nemo interrupted. He turned his attention back to their leader. "If Quatermain wishes to answer this summons alone, we must honor that."

With an authoritative air, the adventurer stood at the end of the table. "Thank you, Nemo," he acknowledged with an appreciative nod of his grey head. "Yes, I do want to meet with this person alone." Casting a deliberate look in Sawyer's direction, he continued brusquely. "And there will be no further talk on the subject. If you'll excuse me."

The six remaining members watched the older man leave the room, each exchanging glances of curiosity. Who was this person who had asked them to Africa? And why was Quatermain so hell bent on going alone?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A misty haze hung over the land as the Nautilus pulled into the port of the African city of Capes Town, foretelling the humid day awaiting the visitors. Sawyer pratically lept off the gangplank, anxious to be on firm ground once more. He gave the man behind him one of his disarming, lopsided grins.

"C'mon, Allan," Tom called out cheerfully.

Quatermain stood at the end of the deck, glowering at the enthusiastic youth. How in the hell did he allow himself to be talked into this change of plans? If that boy didn't wipe that annoying, triumphant smile off his face.... Huh! That was no boy, that was a masterful manipulator under those blonde bangs. A good ear boxing would take care of that!

"All you had to do was say 'no'," Nemo commented, noting the sour expression on Allan's features.

"I did, many times," the hunter answered back lamely, "but he wouldn't accept any of my reasons for him to stay aboard."

"You never leave the door open a crack, you should close it completely."

Watching the young man he had come to view as a surrogate son stretching his limbs in eager anticipation of his journey, Allan pointed in Tom's direction. "You know how the lad was getting stir crazy, all those weeks at sea," he explained in defense of his relenting. "He needs to move about a bit on land."

"He can't say no to Sawyer, pure and simple," a voice said out of the blue.

"No one asked you, Skinner," the explorer growled. "And yes, I can bloody tell him 'no'."

Nemo and Rodney chuckled to themselves. It was no secret to anyone that Sawyer and Quatermain shared a unique bond, akin to a father and son relationship.

"Like to see the both of you do any better," Quatermain muttered under his breath as he pulled his hat down further towards his face. Hefting Matilda over his left shoulder, the renowned adventurer ambled down the gangplank, casting a glare back at his two tormentors, who were still wearing their smug grins.

"Thought you were never coming," Tom said with a cheeky wink. "You ready?"

As the young spy turned to start walking, he noticed the sudden, hushed atmosphere of the noisy port town, the citizens stopping their activities to watch whatever was happening up ahead. Looking back at his mentor, Sawyer's hazel eyes questioned everyone's odd behavior. Was something going on? Giving his protege a knowing smile, Quatermain held his index finger to his lips, and made a shushing sound.

The throngs of people began to collect on one of two sides of the area, making a narrow path straight to where the Nautilus was docked. Up on the submarine's conning tower, the rest of the League gathered, watching the proceedings around them in curiosity.

"It must be someone of great importance," Jekyll guessed, his blue eyes taking in the looks of reverence in the local's faces.

"We sure didn't get that kind of response when we arrived," Skinner laughed. "You'd think the Queen herself was here."

"Or maybe a king," Nemo said with a smile, watching the stately figure of a man walking through the pathway of natives. Having been raised in a royal household himself back in India, the captain knew about the regal air the stranger modestly held.

"A king?" Dorian Gray's eyebrow rose in interest. "This is more acceptable. We should be greeted by royalty, no matter how common they appear."

Mina rolled her eyes and jabbed the immortal in the ribs with her elbow. She squinted against the bright sunlight, making out the person beside the so called king. "Isn't that other man the same one who was chanting at Allan's grave? His name was Majeel wasn't it?"

"You know, I think it is," Rodney agreed. "I thought he was some crazy loon, and here he had connections the whole time."

Down on the ground, Sawyer and Quatermain were hidden by the excited crowd, the hunter grinning slightly to himself. He could sense Tom's frustration and puzzlement behind him, but when the boy found out who was coming, his longed for adventure would soon be forgotten.

After trying many times to peer around the unmoving masses, Sawyer returned his attention to Quatemain, hoping the older man had some idea what was happening. Before he could ask his question, a few natives moved aside, allowing the American a better view of who was coming. His eyes widened in recognition, and a big smile encompassed his full mouth.

"Mr. Majeel!" Tom greeted loudly, waving his hand above his head. The elderly African man had taken a special interest in him after they had brought Quatermain's body here for burial, giving him Allan's gun, Matilda, as well as comforting words of solace. But the thing he was most grateful to Majeel for was bringing his mentor and father figure back to the living.

"Thomas," Allan warned in a near whisper as the people became quiet, all their eyes upon him and Sawyer.

The American agent didn't respond, pushing past some people to meet Majeel face to face. Grasping the shocked witch doctor's hand, Tom shook it vigorously. "Sure is great to see you again!" Turning his gaze to the stranger beside Majeel, the youth grinned. "Hello, Mister," he said in an amiable tone, holding his hand out for the man to shake.

The crowd echoed in a mass gasp of horror, alerting Sawyer to a possible gaff on his part. "What?" he asked, gazing around. "Only tryin' to be friendly."

On the Nautilus, the spy's teammates groaned. In his youthful haste, Sawyer had greeted an underling before the king himself, showing disrespect.

"I cannot even think of facing the king now," Dorian moaned in humiliation.

"Give the kid a break," Skinner broke in. "Hell, I didn't know he was a king either."

"That is because you are an imbecile, like that boy down there," Dorian huffed.

"Tom didn't mean any harm," Jekyll added, though his face was flushed with embarrassment for his young friend.

Sensing the native's growing ire, Quatermain grabbed Tom's arm, pulling the blonde agent behind him protectively. "Forgive my protege, your majesty," he offered in the direction of the king. "I failed in informing him of who you were."

Your majesty? Tom's cheeks turned crimson as he heard the adventurer speak. That was why the people were so excited...a king was coming! '_Way to go, Special Agent Sawyer,_' he chastised himself in his mind.

The king smiled, and grabbed Quatermain's forearm in a warm greeting. "It is good to see you again, Allan."

The hunter returned the smile and grip. "Same here, King Umbopa. It has been many years."

"Too many." Umbopa wrapped an arm around Quatermain's shoulders, leading him in the direction of the Nautilus. "You must come too, young one," he said to Sawyer, who stood sheepishly off to the side.

Majeel came up beside the young man and ushered him back to the submarine, shaking his head with a grin. "It is not as bad as it seems," he offered sympathetically.

As the four men walked up the gangplank and into the Nautilus, the crowd began to stir in curiosity, wondering who in the world were these strangers to draw the presence of an important, African king.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The League and their two guests assembled in the strategy room to discuss the sent message, after the proper introductions had been made. King Umbopa noted Sawyer's continued silence, and was about to calm the agent's discomfort when Quatermain nudged him gently.

Leaning in, the seasoned explorer winked and whispered conspiratorially. "Don't let the boy off the hook yet, Umbopa. I think this is the longest he's ever been quiet. Let's enjoy the peace a while longer."

He knew his old friend was only jesting, but the seriousness of his mission diminished his humor. "Be careful what you ask for, my friend. It could become permanent," Umbopa said sadly. Noting the look of worry that crossed the master hunter's face, the king continued. "The evil spirit of Gagool has returned."

"Gagool?" Tom finally spoke, "Wasn't she the priestess who served under Twala?"

"Yes, Thomas," Allan said curtly. Those damn books on his adventures...if he didn't quiet his protege now, they'd be stuck hearing about those misconstrued stories for hours. "Let the '_king_' finish."

The American agent's eyes grew big in realization. "Oh, sorry."

Umbopa gave Sawyer a warm smile. "Today, I am only a friend. Feel free to speak."

"Okay your lordship," Skinner chimed in, "so what in hell are we talking about here?"

"Skinner," Nemo growled next to the invisible thief.

"Your young comrade was right, Gagool was a high priestess under the man who took my throne," Umbopa replied. "Though she died years ago, I'm afraid one of her descendants has discovered her dark powers."

Allan ran a hand over his well-aged, but handsome features in consternation. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "Do you know who it is?"

"An African native now residing in England. He's only known as Twazul."

"Is this Twazul threatening to usurp your throne?" Mina surmised.

"Not only that, he wishes revenge on three others he sees as the ones who destroyed Gagool," the king answered solemnly.

"Sir Henry Curtis, Captain Good, and Allan," Sawyer inserted, casting a concerned glance at his father figure. "Do you have any information on how or when?"

Majeel came up behind the spy and spoke. "Only that he will destroy the men's families through them."

"That is why you must travel to England and stop Twazul," King Umbopa insisted.

"I will," Quatermain vowed. "I handled Gagool, and I can handle her second rate relative."

"Be cautious with your confidence, Twazul uses fear against his enemy."

"This Twazul's magic tricks won't scare me," Allan huffed indignantly. "Besides, I have no family for him to threaten."

Giving the others in the room a polite smile, King Umbopa rose from the table. "If the rest of you will excuse Mr. Quatermain and myself, I would like to spend some time alone with a friend I haven't seen in many years."

Leaving the League and Majeel back in the strategy room, Quatermain led Umbopa to his cabin, assured of some privacy to discuss what was truly on the king's mind.

The remainder of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen watched nervously as Majeel hovered near Sawyer, his dark eyes never leaving the American's face. Swallowing hard, the Secret Service agent tried to make small talk.

"Are you coming with us, Mr. Majeel?" the spy asked.

"No, I must stay and protect the king," Majeel answered, still staring.

Feeling his friend's unease, Skinner decided to cut in. "Now myself....I'd rather be staring at Mina instead of Sawyer...," he jabbed, hoping to draw the witch doctor's attention away. His white, grease smeared face grinned broadly when he heard the vampiress's disgusted 'humph' beside him.

"I am preparing," Majeel responded, his eyes remaining fixed upon the agent. Waving his gnarled, wooden staff before Sawyer's face, the witch doctor demanded, "Sleep, young one." Instantly Tom went slack, his eyes closing in slumber. Majeel caught the youth's body and laid him back gently in the chair.

"Hey now!" Rodney yelled in alarm, rising from his seat.

"Silence!" Majeel commanded, stopping the thief from moving forward.

"I-I can't move!" the invisible rogue cried out to the others.

"None of you can," Majeel explained. "Do not worry about the boy, I am trying to protect him from the harm that Twazul wishes to impose."

"We can take care of our own just fine," Skinner informed the witch doctor hotly.

"Your fight is not with me, it is within yourself," Majeel warned ominously. "You will all have to face your greatest fear before you could ever hope to help anyone else." Placing a hand on Sawyer's head, the medicine man sighed. "I can only give you this bit of hope."

"You surely don't mean Sawyer!" Dorian snarled. "He has the least chance out of all of us to survive. He'll need us, not the other way around."

Majeel shook his dark head and grinned knowingly. "And that is your own will to survive speaking," he said to Gray. "I am aware your future is linked to him, but sometimes what is viewed as the weakest link is actually the strongest."

Dorian rolled his brown eyes dramatically. "Pardon me if I find absolutely no comfort in your reasoning."

"If you find the courage to face your deepest turmoil, you will begin to understand." Majeel waved his free hand for quiet, and began to chant as his staff hovered above Sawyer's sleeping form.

The rest of the League could only watch helplessly in concern and fascination as the witch doctor wove his elaborate spell. How could all that mystical mumbo jumbo help their youngest member? Or them for that matter?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We're not here to talk about old times," Allan said bluntly, gesturing for Umbopa to take a seat across from him. "How serious is the threat? Is this Twazul that powerful?"

"Oh, now we take it seriously," Umbopa mocked, taking his chair. " was all the brave talk for the others?"

"I didn't want any doubts when I faced Twazul myself."

"You are determined to do this alone?"

Quatermain looked away. "This is my battle. I don't want to draw attention to the others and endanger them."

"That is very noble, but don't you think they will be targeted anyway?" the king pressed. "Weren't you all chosen for your unique abilities? Why can they not battle by your side instead of waiting to be attacked?"

Sending Umbopa an irritated scowl, the great hunter drummed his fingers on the table. He knew exactly where this was headed, but didn't want to concede. "None of them where there, they didn't face Gagool...."

"You didn't face Gagool before then either," the African king pointed out. "For a man who despises games, you are trying to play a masterful one now."

"I have my reasons," the explorer replied testily.

"Refusing to admit the truth will not diminish what is true."

"I know what the truth is," Quatermain countered. "I chose to protect them from it."

"Ignorance of danger is no protection." Umbopa rose from his chair, shaking his head in disappointment. "I expected this reaction of fear...."

"It's got nothing to do with me being afraid," Allan contested angrily, "didn't I already agree to stop this Twazul?"

"Your son's tragic death has blinded you so badly that you fear the one thing that can bring you peace, and sadly Twazul will use that to his benefit." The African king walked over to the door and opened it. "That is why I took matters into my own hands."

Allan bolted from his seat. "What did you do, Umbopa?"

Giving his friend a sad smile, he exited the adventurer's cabin, stopping in the hallway to turn and face Quatermain. "I asked Majeel to give the youngest a special blessing from harm." He could see the relief that flooded over Allan's face at that bit of information.

"Thank you, Umbopa," Allan replied gratefully. "I will admit I was a bit worried."

"I did not give this blessing only because I feared for him," Umbopa responded, "but I'm glad I could offer you a respite from worry."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because he lives in the future, not the past...and if Twazul succeeds in his plans, the young American will be the only one left to fight."

"I'll stop that bugger before I have to call in anyone," Quatermain insisted. "I don't want Sawyer anywhere near him, blessing or no blessing."

Sighing, King Umbopa went back into the strategy room, knowing his friend was not dealing with the issue of his fear. His arrival was met by stony glares from the others as Majeel finished his ceremony on Tom. Seeing the looks of anger and anxiety on the League's faces concerning their teammate, the African monarch prayed inside that it would be enough of a driving force to allow for victory over Twazul.

It had to be, or all hope was lost.


	2. chapter 2

**Silent Bob 546: **LOL...no you're not a loser! Thanks for reviewing. This is my third story.

**Ten Mara: **Hi ya! Thanks for the review, and yes, Tom does get his way a lot doesn't he?

**Samyo: **Thanks, and as you can see, I did update LXG 2....hehehe. I can't forget my 'baby'. I got this fic challenge through an LXG journal I belong to. I'm ashamed to say I'm not technically done. I was a bad girl and tinkered with it, and now I'm too far into it, that I have to finish the changes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 2

"What in bloody hell!" Quatermain roared when he viewed his young protege slumped in a chair. Rushing over to Sawyer's side, the adventurer grasped the chin of the unresponsive spy, giving it a firm jerk. "Come on now, lad. This is no time to be napping," Allan urged with more calm than he felt inside.

"He will not wake until you reach England," Majeel offered in explanation.

"I thought it was only to be a blessing! What in blazes is this?"

"Protection," King Umbopa added. "Twazul or anyone he has control of will not be able to harm him, but your youngest must stay protected until then."

"That don't make any sense," Rodney questioned angrily. "Ain't the bloke in England? Shouldn't Tom be out cold while we're there to protect him, not before?"

"What exactly are you sending us into?" Mina asked, her ire rising. She didn't like this one bit. "You're keeping something more from us."

Exchanging a glance between his tribal doctor, King Umbopa met the face of each League member one by one, his serious tone tinged with regret. "You know all you can know. Twazul will try to use your fear to control you, but he can be defeated."

"Thank you for that little bit of nothing," Gray scowled. "I for one don't want any part of this."

"You would allow innocents to suffer?" Majeel muttered in disgust. "You all must fight for the sake of humanity."

"We must leave you now. The longer we delay your journey, the less time you have to save Captain Good and Sir Henry's families." Umbopa reached out and clasped onto Quatermain's forearm, the old hunter responding in kind. "Take care, my friend. I will pray to the spirits of the earth to give you wisdom and courage to face this foe."

Allan nodded grimly, casting a quick look in Sawyer's direction. "I'll do all I can, Umbopa. Sir Henry was only looking for his brother, and he and Captain Good are innocent in Gagool"s death. I'll make sure that bastard knows that personally."

"You will all make it known," Majeel corrected, placing a hand on Tom's shoulder, "including this one."

Quatermain began to argue, but Umbopa intervened. "It's the only way, Allan, and denying it won't make the inevitable disappear." With that said, the African king and his servant left the Nautilus, allowing it's occupants to begin their perilous journey into the depths of their inner turmoil.

Supper passed quietly, and despite the magnificent meal placed before them, the League could only pick at the food, their thoughts with the young American who could not join them. After their visitors had left, Sawyer was taken to his room, still deeply under whatever trance Majeel had placed him in.

The heavy cloud of the possible dangers ahead also dampened any mood for idle chit chat. They would have to face their biggest, deepest fear.... Each member secretly asked themselves if it was truly possible to fight against what they had hidden inside for so long. As the questions echoed in their minds, the feeling of helplessness grew. One by one the League left the table to brood over their daunting task in the privacy of their cabins, till sleep finally overtook their doubts.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Throwing back the blankets, Captain Nemo finally ended his bid for sleep. Placing his robe over his modest pajamas, the Hindu made his way towards his shrine, hoping some prayers would ease his troubled spirit. There was a darkness creeping inside that he thought he had vanquished years ago.

Passing outside Sawyer's cabin, the captain noticed the door was open a crack. Peering inside to make sure his young friend was alright, Nemo saw Quatermain gently tucking a blanket more securely around the unconscious spy. Smiling sadly, he thought back to when he had done the same thing to his own children back in India. Spellbinding them with tales of adventure, he would kiss each one of them goodnight, making sure each trusting child was secure and safe.

Watching the hunter smooth back some blonde strands of hair that rested across Tom's eyes, Nemo felt a resentment growing. Why should Quatermain get to bask in the glow of fatherhood again? Yes, they had both lost their families through tragedy, but Quatermain's losses were from his own pride and vanity.It wasn't fair this imperialistic, Anglo-Saxon's soul could mend while his still lay in pieces.

Hearing Quatermain walking towards the door, Nemo ducked around the corner, his anger growing as the explorer ambled to his room. When he was sure Allan was not returning, the captain snuck inside Sawyer's cabin, viewing the helpless form in the bed. He was so young, handsome, full of life....just as his own children had been, before they were punished fatally for being the wrong nationality.

The great Allan Quatermain represented all that Britannia embodied, and the boy represented redemption and happiness in another chance of imperialistic oppression. Pushing aside any pity for the youth, Nemo rationalized his next course of action. He wrapped his hand around a hunting knife Sawyer kept in the night stand beside the bed, and raised it above the agent's heart.

It would be more merciful to kill the young man before Quatermain's stench of evil ruined another innocent life.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mina woke with a start, a thirst rising inside that was overwhelming her every sense. The smell of it hung heavily in the air, and she could hear it rushing through the veins as she ran a tongue over her mouth in anticipation of the sweet and salty taste. The supply she had procured from a mortician back in London was getting stale, and she relished being able to drink something fresh....

Throwing a robe over her nightgown, the vampiress hurried down the hall to her feast, not caring that it was Sawyer's room she entered. Seconds later she transformed, the beast inside her fully exposed. Eyes blood red, she hovered near Tom's neck, watching the veins throb with life. Young blood was excruciatingly delicious, it's strength and vitality a rush beyond description.

In a primal scream of ecstasy, Mina bared her overly long canine fangs and went in for the kill, satisfying her need to feed on someone young and alive.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How he hated that insufferable boy! The thought rang over and over in Dorian's mind as he fought the urge to sleep. If he didn't have to keep that child alive to keep himself alive...he would gladly end his servitude to the American with a well placed sword thrust.

As much as he craved to kill the agent, he feared the fires of Hell more. But wasn't his forced compliance a form of Hell on earth? Was he truly free? If he defied the Almighty's wishes and killed Sawyer, would he really be punished in Hell? Wouldn't Satan actually reward him for disobedience of the highest order?

He was tired of fighting through the multitudes of human emotions. It was all for nothing anyway; why not end it all now and be done? The more the immortal thought on it, the more his will overcame the excruciating pain caused by his hatefulness towards Sawyer.

Grasping his sword cane, Gray smiled maliciously. He would take great pleasure in ripping the boy's mid-section open...slowly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beads of sweat broke out on Jekyll's face as he tried to push Edward Hyde's voice back inside the farthest reaches of his mind. His inner demon was worse today, the monster's presence hard to control as he struggled to keep his sanity. They were about to enter a dangerous situation, and Hyde was the last thing England needed.

"_I'm getting stronger, Henry, you can't deny it," _Edward Hyde mocked inside the doctor's head. _"I'll be the one in charge, and you'll be the one forced to sit in darkness!"_

"No! I won't allow you to terrorize innocent people like you did before!"

"_Oh really? Did you stop me all those other times back in London...Paris? I remember stacking up a very high body count."_

"Be quiet!" Jekyll cried out, covering his ears as if it could help drown out his alter ego's voice. "I'm in control now!"

A low, menacing laugh began in back of Jekyll's consciousness, growing louder with every passing second till his wiry body began to quake and twist violently. What was happening? He hadn't touched the elixir, but his body was beginning to change...

"_I'm tired of waiting for you to release me!" _Hyde growled, his voice coming more to the forefront. _"The stronger I become, the more you'll fade away till there is nothing left of Dr. Henry Jekyll!"_

"I forbid you! I'm the true owner of this person! You were created by me...."

"_And I thank you ever so much, Henry for that one moment of brilliance in your pathetic life, but now it's time for me to become the dominant personality. Hmmm...how should I celebrate my freedom? I know! I'll start by tearing apart everyone's precious little American...."_

Henry cried out in vain as his body became the behemoth Mr. Hyde, his worst fear finally realized. In his effort to help humanity, he had unwittingly unleashed it's destruction! Before he had the relief of knowing at least the potion would wear off, but now he was stuck in back of Hyde's mind, with no hope of ever returning.

"I wonder if that old medicine man's spell will break when I pull out Sawyer's arms?" Hyde smiled.

"_Don't harm him, Edward...please...," _Henry begged.

"If it means that much to you," Edward sneered in mock compliance. "How about I have my way with the beautiful Mrs. Harker?" Hearing his former master gasp in horror, the man-monster laughed cruelly, and broke a leg off a nearby wooden chair. "I hear vampires can be killed by a stake through the heart, followed by decapitation. I can easily rip her head off, that should be no problem."

"_No! Don't you touch her!" _Jekyll screamed.

"We can't have it both ways. It's either the boy or the woman you secretly desire. I'd pick the boy if I were you, after all...he could become competition down the road for us."

"_Don't do this!"_

"Make the choice, Henry....or I'll do it for you," Mr. Hyde threatened, "and there's the added danger I may get greedy. If you choose, I give you my word to only kill one." Hearing Jekyll's grief stricken answer, the gigantic man threw his head back in a roar of laughter. "Let's begin the fun, shall we? Oh, and by the way, Henry...I'll dismember him quickly."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Father? Father, where are you?" a voice called through a thick, London fog.

Allan stirred from his sleep and found himself standing in front of his old home in the outskirts of London. It had been years since he last stepped foot on the property.... Where they in England already? Anxiously he looked around for Sawyer. Majeel had said the boy would awake as soon as they reached England.

"He's not here," a bitter, but familiar voice uttered through the haze.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Quatermain peered intently into the fog. "Harry?" No, it couldn't be his long dead son! "Who's playing games?" A figure stepped out from the gray bleakness, his face leaving a lump in the hunter's throat, making it almost impossible to speak.

"Hello, Father," Harry Quatermain called out happily, looking just the same he had before that tragic day. His brown eyes crinkled in mirth as he stretched his arms out in an invitation of greeting. "I have missed you so much!"

Tears began to trickle down the wrinkled face. "Harry?" Allan managed to finally say, still standing in place. Was he dreaming? He could feel the dampness in the air around him, and heard the Thames river lapping against the stone barriers in a calming effect. This had to be real.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" Harry questioned, lowering his arms a little.

"No, Harry...," Allan fumbled around in response, "it's just that I can't believe what I'm seeing.... You were killed...."

Harry laughed. "Come over here and see how real I am!" Again the younger Quatermain held his arms out wide.

Slowly, the old explorer walked over to his grown child, his mind still reeling from the shock of it all. When he finally reached his goal, he eagerly threw his arms around his son. "Harry...Harry," he sobbed more fully, tightening his hug. "You don't know how many times I prayed to be able to see you again, even if it was for a second...."

The warm embrace was shattered when Harry violently pushed his father away from him. "But you haven't been lately, have you?" the son accused heatedly. "Seems I've been replaced in your life."

"What? What are you talking about, Harry?" Allan sputtered, confused and hurt by the sudden change of attitude. "You could never be replaced."

"Oh really?" Harry spat back in a venomous tone. "Ever since that American entered your life...your memories of me have been fading!"

"You surely can't blame Thomas for anything...."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Heaven's no, not your precious Thomas. He's everything you ever wanted in a son, isn't he, Father? He wouldn't have acted so stupidly like me, the bookworm, back in Africa."

Hurt was replaced by anger as Quatermain lashed out at the unfair accusations. "What in bloody hell are you saying, boy? Don't forget that I'm your father...."

"Are you? Sure forgot about me easily enough when the right '_son_' came along. Must be a dream come true...having a perfect replica of yourself doting on your every word, every lesson."

"You stop that right now! It's nothing like that!"

"Who did you give your life for, Father?" Harry jeered. "I remember feeling every claw, every tooth that tiger used to tear me to bits! Did your Thomas feel that knife slice his throat open? You felt that knife, didn't you? Felt it dig deep into your lungs...all for him!"

"If I could've stopped that tiger myself, I would have gave my life over and over to do it!" Allan swore angrily. "How could you ever doubt my love for you?"

"How could you throw me aside for some wanna-be son?" Harry shot back vehemently. "You spend more time with him than you ever did with me my entire youth! I was thirty-three years old before I went on an adventure with you! This upstart walks up, shows off his rifle, and he's instantly accepted. How should I take it?"

"I'll admit I'm very fond of the lad," Allan conceded, "but you would like him too if you gave him the chance...."

"Be one happy family?" Harry gave a disgusted snort. "Ha! And sit at the same table with the one who wants to take my place? No! If you ever want to see me again, Father, you must break all ties with him."

Looking at his son with confusion, Quatermain reached out for his only child. "Why are you being so cruel, son?"

"Why are you?" Harry asked, walking backwards into the fog.

"No! Harry...wait!" Allan begged as he tried to run after his departing son, but something was holding his arm, pulling him back.

"Allan?"

Quatermain did a double take, seeing Sawyer's face looming over his. A feeling of guilt and anger overcame the hunter, and he jerked his arm free from the spy's firm grip, avoiding looking the young man in the eyes. All he needed was a few more seconds with Harry to make him see sense.

Tom let out a sigh of relief. "Sure glad you're okay, I was gettin' worried there for a minute."

"Just a dream," Allan muttered, fussing with his covers as he tried to get up. "How long have you been awake, Sawyer?"

"Not long," the blonde agent shrugged. "Funny thing is, I don't remember anything past Majeel and the king being here. Don't remember them leavin' either."

"We'll all discuss it later," Quatermain said brusquely, not looking in Tom's direction.

"Oh, all right," Tom agreed, patting his stomach. "Tummy's growlin' at me anyhow."

When he heard the sound of the door closing, Quatermain let out a groan, and clutched the sides of the wardrobe in front of him till his fingers turned white from the pressure. Was he betraying his son's memory by having the same fatherly feelings towards another? Harry's stinging assertions came roaring back, driving the seasoned explorer deeper into guilt. Did pride and vanity once again rear it's ugly head by taking Sawyer under his wing? Having the boy in his life brought a new sense of purpose, but did he do the wrong thing by treating Thomas more like a son instead of a pupil?

Opening up the ornate piece of furniture, Allan didn't make his usual haste in getting dressed. He dreaded having to deal with the others, but more so with the young agent. Would they guess what he was thinking? He knew Tom wouldn't relent; demanding his answers. How could he tell the lad about the horrible guilt he obviously felt deep inside that manifested itself in the form of his departed son?

Whistling down the corridors of the Nautilus, Tom sniffed the air hoping to catch the scent of whatever the head chef, Anonin, was making. It smelled like French Toast.... A grin formed as he picked up his pace, passing by Dorian's room. A shrill shriek stopped the American cold in his tracks. Gray was having one of his frequent nightmares of Hell, but there was something different about this episode.

Sawyer knocked on the door. "Gray? You okay in there?" Hearing more cries of desperation coming from the other side, the spy jimmied the lock like Skinner had taught him, and entered inside the cabin.

The immortal thrashed about in his bed, a look of absolute agony on his normally perfect features. Cries filled the air as Gray battled whatever demon was taunting him. The young spy watched the aristocrat in horror, wondering what he could do to end the suffering before him. True, he still didn't like Gray that much, but he couldn't stand by and do nothing.

Moving to the side of the bed, Sawyer mimicked his actions minutes ago in Quatermain's room, grabbing the flailing arms in a firm grip. "C'mon Gray," Tom spoke quietly, "it's mornin'...you should be done with your sleepin' by now."

Hearing the young agent's voice, Dorian's eyes flew open. "You're alive?" he whispered, his voice rough from the screams.

"Course I am," Tom frowned.

"I could've sworn I killed you," Gray muttered in confusion, running a hand through his longish, brown locks.

Sawyer shook his head. "You can't kill me remember? Said so yourself." He smacked the immortal on the arm. "Let's get your lazy sack of bones up."

Dorian continued to stare into space, still disbelieving. "Dear god, I wanted to literally kill you..."

Giving a sarcastic chuckle, Sawyer threw Gray's robe at him. "You always say that."

Springing up from the bed, Dorian grabbed Sawyer by the arms, shaking him once. "I'm serious you simpleton!" he snarled in the blonde's face. "I was back in Hell being punished for gutting you with my sword! Despite all the affliction I felt that tried to stop me, I tore you open...for pure pleasure! I wanted it so bad, I couldn't stop myself!"

Tom pulled free, looking at Gray with wide eyes as he inched back towards the door. Granted, there was no love loss between them, but Dorian had never voiced his hatred quite this way before.

"Don't look at me that way," Gray grumbled, feeling an odd sensation coming over him. It felt almost like guilt, but he didn't feel that emotion anymore.

Nodding, the American agent hurried from the room, almost colliding with Jekyll, who was frantically looking around as he left his cabin.

"Are you alright, Henry?" Sawyer asked in concern, taking in the traumatized features of the doctor.

"He didn't destroy the door?" the doctor said shakily under his breath, feeling the edging around the doorway. When he finally acknowledged the voice talking to him, Jekyll stood stock still, appearing ready to faint as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Dr. Jekyll?" Tom asked again, reaching out to steady the medical man.

"I watched Hyde dismember you...."

"Wh-what?" Sawyer gasped, taking a step back.

"I'm sorry....I'm so sorry!" Jekyll begged, placing his trembling hands in front of his face in shame. "Hyde took over my body...he made me choose between killing you or...." Henry didn't finish, rushing back inside his room and slamming the door shut.

A door opening to the side of him caused the stunned American to turn and view the sorrowful face of Mina Harker. Tear streaks had left their marks on the porcelain skin, and her blue eyes were swollen around the edges from crying. Seeing her dead victim standing before her, the vampiress' mouth fell open in amazement, revealing her still un-retracted fangs. Instantly she covered her mouth, her disgrace evident as she lowered her head and turned her gaze away.

"Please don't haunt me," she whispered through a fresh bout of tears. "I didn't realize I was draining you until it was too late.... Please forgive me..., Tom...please...."

Unable to answer back due to the overload of confusion, Sawyer ran from Mina's presence, seeking some form of sanity from what he had just heard. Seeing Nemo exit his stateroom, the youth gave a small sigh. The wise Indian would be able to cast some light on what was going on.

"Cap'n Nemo!" Tom called out. His hope was short lived when the captain turned, the once knowing, considerate eyes now cold and sad.

A brown hand touched the American's chest. "There is no stab wound?" Nemo asked in astonishment. He unsheathed his saber and stared at it as if he were in a daze. "My sword is not covered in your blood anymore...," his voice trailed off.

"You...you too?" the young spy half-whispered, backing away from Nemo. "You tried to kill me?"

The captain rubbed a hand across his forehead as the realization dawned on him. "I wanted to kill your for revenge...."

"Revenge? I don't understand."

"I fear I understand all too well," Nemo said solemnly, his eyes moistening. "Forgive me." Turning back to the door he had just came from, the Indian dropped his head, and silently went back inside.

Left standing alone in the corridor, Sawyer thought back to what the others had just told him. His teammates...his friends...were wanting to kill him? How could this be? A deep knot began to form in the pit of his stomach. But why? What did he do?

His mind reeling, Sawyer sped down the hall to the only person he prayed could help him, throwing open the door and entering inside.

"Dammit all, boy," Quatermain growled, as he buttoned his shirt. "Can't a man dress in private?" His admonitions died on his lips when he noticed his protege shrinking back from him like a dog who had been kicked one time too many. Instantly his troubles vanished, taken over by concern. "Thomas? What's wrong, lad?"

Tom tried to open his mouth to speak, but the pain of his friends words choked him, causing him to stand in silence, pleading with his father figure through his eyes.

Cautiously, Allan neared the youth, alarmed by the sudden change. Sawyer reminded him of a skittish gazelle, ready to take flight....and that wasn't the Tom Sawyer he knew. Something had thrown the American for a loop, but what?

"Are you ill? You don't look very well?" Quatermain asked, placing a hand on Tom's forehead to feel for a fever. He frowned when he saw the hurt and confusion radiating from the young man's intense, hazel eyes. "Thomas, I can't help you don't tell me, son."

At the mention of the word, 'son', Tom knew he was safe, struggling to find the words to explain the emotions swirling inside him. "Did I do somethin' wrong? You all want me in the League, right? I mean, you went to an awful lot of trouble to get me back in...."

"What are you going on about, boy?" the hunter interrupted curtly, anxious to get to the source of Sawyer's odd behavior. Watching Tom inch back farther with a wary expression, Quatermain chided himself in his mind for his reaction. Dammit! The boy was obviously needing some reassurance, and was trusting him to give it. Throwing his doubts aside, the explorer pulled Sawyer closer, grasping the young man by the shoulders.

"Take as much time as you need, Thomas..., then we'll sort this out." His heart warmed at the look of absolute trust Tom gave him. The charges brought against him in his dream disappeared. No, he had done the right thing.


	3. chapter 3

**Thanks to Ten Mara and Samyo for the reviews!**

PART 3

"I don't want to be here," Dorian grumbled under his breath, giving Quatermain a deadly glare.

"I didn't mean to upset Tom any," Jekyll offered, not liking the feral look in the explorer's eyes, "but I was so shocked to see him standing there...after I was so sure he had died."

"It was like I couldn't help myself!" Mina threw in, her features still visibly upset.

"I was overcome by a bitterness and hatred that was even greater than what I had felt before," Nemo admitted with shame. "Enough to make me turn against my friends."

"Why didn't me and Quatermain have dreams about trying to kill Sawyer?" Skinner asked in bewilderment.

"Maybe because we had risked our lives to save him back in M's castle," Quatemain answered, thankful at least one other member had not succumbed to the murderous actions in their sleep. He had to literally drag the others to this meeting, but it was necessary. They were in England, and Twazul had started the first round, assaulting them on the Nautilus where they thought they were the safest. It was the only explanation.

The hunter now understood Majeel's reasoning for placing Tom under more protection on the trip to London. They would be vulnerable in their security, and it would be the perfect chance to see how much control Twazul could insert over his prey.

"We better get going," Sawyer said to Allan, walking into the strategy room. The others, except for Skinner, hung their heads, not able to look the spy in the face. Tom's feelings of hurt and insecurity diminished after Quatermain had explained what had happened with Majeel and King Umbopa. Everything now made sense.

"I can never offer enough words or actions to excuse...," Nemo began to say, but Sawyer shook his head.

"That wasn't me you were killing," Tom said in understanding. "Twazul took your inner fear and used me in your minds to act it out." The young man met everyone's shocked glance. "Don't you all see? He wants to break us apart. The bastard knows that together we can defeat him."

"I can't take the chance of Hyde being unleashed," Henry spoke up, his vocal chords raw from screaming at Edward during his horrible ordeal. "If he could affect me so strongly in my dreams, what's to stop him from convincing me to use the elixir?"

"He's right," Mina agreed. "If we were unleashed on London, it could be a bloodbath of horrible proportions."

"But you beat him!" Tom insisted.

"Did we?" Nemo disagreed. "I had killed you in my dream."

"That wasn't you, that was your fear!" Curling his fist in frustration, Sawyer turned to Quatermain, hoping for some assistance. They were refusing to see the truth!

"I think they have a point, lad," Allan replied, not looking at his protege. "Maybe it would be wiser to have them stay onboard till we fully investigate this Twazul...to know what we're up against."

"We already know!"

"Thomas," Allan said in a tone of finality.

Scowling up at his father figure, Sawyer fell silent. None of them could see what he could.... A shiver went down the agent's spine. How powerful was this Twazul to make even the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen afraid?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Skinner! Put that damn thing down!" Allan growled in the invisible rogue's direction, seeing the speaking device Nemo had given Sawyer floating in the air. It was some sort of talking machine, much like a telephone, but this was handheld, and you could walk around freely with it. Joking to ease the heavy mood, Rodney dubbed it a walking talker.

"And where exactly should I put it?" Rodney teased. Seeing the venomous glare the adventurer gave him, the former thief cleared his throat. "I know where you'd like to place it, mate, but I don't think either one of us wants to be the one to retrieve it."

Sawyer broke out into a hearty laugh, taking the contraption from Skinner. He felt relieved to at least have some way to contact the others if the situation became dire. Deep down he knew they wouldn't fail if push came to shove, no matter what this Twazul threw at them....they just had to realize that.

Hailing a horse drawn cab, the three men traveled down the rain soaked streets of London, each steeling themselves for whatever lie ahead. Despite his jesting, Skinner never told the others of the dream he had experienced. He may not have killed Tom like the others had, but it was disturbing none the less. Was he kidding himself by going along with Quatermain and Sawyer?

"We're here," Quatermain announced when the cab began to slow.

The American spy whistled in admiration at the lavish estate with it's picture perfect scenery. He had mostly hung around the city when he was searching for information on the Fantom. It truly was beautiful out in the countryside. Casting a sideways glance at Allan, Sawyer could read the faraway look in the older man's eyes.

"Some fond memories?" he asked quietly.

Smiling down sadly at the spy, Quatermain nodded, his eyes misting. "Harry loved coming here," he spoke in a warm tone. "He would stay here once in a while when I was leading expeditions in Africa." For a brief second the hunter looked further down the road, towards another estate that he once called home.

It was Sir Henry's bright idea for him to buy it since Harry loved coming over so much, but deep down Allan suspected his old friend of a more devious motive; to lure him away from Africa. Even Sir Henry and Captain Good finally tired of the wondrous continent, settling down in drafty, rainy, and foggy ol' England in the end.

Quatermain lowered his head. Coming here would definitely resurrect some well buried emotions. He turned his gaze back to Sawyer, who was still looking on in fascination. It reminded him so much of Harry's reaction when he first brought him here years ago. Again the adventurer faced in the direction of his old home. Was it still the same as he left it? Should he maybe take Thomas there after this mess was settled?

"I could see why he liked it," Sawyer finally spoke, breaking Allan out of his musings. The explorer responded with a squeeze on the spy's shoulder.

Skinner was scratching at his bald head underneath his black hat. "Hope I didn't pinch anything at this place before...."

"It's the 'present' I'm worried about," Quatermain muttered, pulling on a bell rope to alert the occupants of their presence. He had to forget about this walk down memory lane before he distracted him from his true purpose.

A young woman in her early thirties glanced warily through the iron rails of the massive gates, her face lighting up when she recognized an old family friend. "Mr. Quatermain!" the daughter of Captain John Good cried, hurriedly unlocking the gate. "You couldn't have come at a better time!"

"What's wrong, Ima?" Quatermain asked the former Imaline Good in alarm, forgetting the pleasantries as he pushed himself through. "Where are the servants? Sir Henry? Bloody hell, your father?"

"Please, come inside," Imaline pleaded, grasping the hunter's calloused hand. "Something terrible has happened to my father and Sir Henry." Skinner and Sawyer hurried after their leader, each exchanging a glance of dread. Twazul must've struck!

"My father was called to a meeting here," Imaline explained as they hurried through the main hall. "Sir Henry asked for me and my husband, Gerald, to come as well. They both went into the study with some man, and hours later they both came out, immediately collapsing to the floor!"

"What?" Quatermain said in dismay. "Are they all right, Ima?"

Tears welled up in the sea-green eyes. "They're alive, but it's like they're in a trance...we can't get them to wake up or respond to anything! The doctors are at a loss."

"Do you what the meetin' is about, Ma'am?" Tom inserted.

"I don't know, but it was about some business dealings. I know my husband knows more than he's telling me. Even Sir Henry's two sons aren't discussing it with their wives. All the servants mysteriously left as well. I don't understand what's going on!"

"Is that other man still here?" Allan asked, patting Ima's hand in sympathy.

"Yes, he's still in the study."

"You go see to your father, I'll see what I can do."

Ima swung her arms around the seasoned adventurer. "Thank you," she whispered before going upstairs.

His eyes turning hard, Quatermain glared in the direction of the study. "You two stay here..."

"No." Sawyer challenged. "I'm not lettin' you out of my sight."

"I have no time for this, boy," Allan threatened.

"Then let's meet this Twazul," the spy said, pushing himself past his mentor. He stopped dead in his tracks when he glanced behind, noting the blank looks that had overtaken Quatermain and Skinner's features. Turning around, Tom found himself face to face with a tall, elegantly dressed man of African descent. The man appeared to be in his early forties, and he gave the younger man a confident, toothy smile.

"You have met him," the man said in a deep, almost hypnotic voice. Cupping Sawyer's chin with his oversized hand, he laughed when the agent angrily pushed it away. "You have Majeel's stench all over you, little one," he mocked, eyeing his only adversary.

Whipping out one of his colt.45 pistols from under his black ,duster coat, Sawyer aimed it at the bigger man, his hazel eyes narrowing as he cocked his gun back. Suddenly, three men came bursting out of the study, and jumped in front of Twazul, blocking Sawyer's aim with their bodies.

"You mustn't shoot our master," one of the men pleaded. "We will willingly sacrifice ourselves for him!"

"You dirty bastard...," Sawyer muttered towards the African between clenched teeth. Lowering his pistol, he knew had been bested...for now. He wouldn't shoot innocent pawns in the witch doctor's twisted mind game.

Twazul laughed. "You still hold out hope for defeating me?" he taunted, seeing the fire in the blonde agent's eyes. Though he could not control or read the youth's mind, his face was easy enough to decipher. "You cannot stop me, even though Majeel's spell may protect you for the moment. I will grow in power, and soon I will overcome anyone who tries to stand in my way."

"You're not invulnerable," the young spy disputed.

"No, but I will be," Twazul boasted. "Even your unique friends are too afraid to fight me...something you should take a lesson from." The man winked arrogantly, placing his hands on two of his protectors. "Gentlemen, remember to set our agreement into motion Monday morning. I have other things to tend to."

"Yes, Master Twazul," the three men said in unison, still using their bodies as shields as they began to walk him to the door.

Pausing in front of Sawyer, Twazul motioned for the nearest slave to disarm the agent. "Let Captain Good's son-in-law have your weapons, and Mr. Quatermain's gun as well." When Tom refused, the African sighed and turned his eyes towards Skinner. The rogue screamed in agony while he clutched at his head.

"Stop it!" Sawyer yelled, rushing over to his friend.

"Hand over your weapons," Twazul repeated.

Cursing under his breath, Sawyer relinquished his revolvers, vowing to somehow find a way to stop this evil man. As soon as Tom obeyed, Skinner was released from the mental torment, his knees giving way from under him. Grabbing hold of his teammate as best he could, the spy struggled to lower Rodney to the hardwood floor.

"You okay, Skinner?"

"What just happened?" The invisible thief asked groggily. Why was he lying on the floor?

"Twazul happened," Sawyer replied bitterly, glaring up at the African's smiling face.

"That's him?" Rodney whispered, taking in the tall man's form. "He's a big one."

"Got an even bigger ego," Tom whispered back.

"I'll leave you to tend to your '_father_'," Twazul said in parting, enjoying the frustration on the young man's countenance. "Good day to you."

The door closing signaled the departure of the African witch doctor, and all he had held in his power began to return to their normals shelves, all except Quatermain. The hunter swayed slightly before crumbling, but Sawyer and Skinner managed to catch their friend before he fell completely, carrying him to a nearby settee.

"Allan? Let me know you're okay!" Sawyer implored, tapping the sides of the bearded face for any kind of acknowledgment as Quatermain lay insensible.

"I'm calling in the others," Skinner announced, pulling the walking talker from Sawyer's coat pocket. The American agent nodded mutely, his thoughts only on his father figure.

He couldn't lose him again....

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry sighed heavily as he placed the stethoscope on the night stand beside him. "His blood pressure is high, his heart is racing...."

"Those are bad things?" Rodney asked, viewing the still figure of Quatermain. Despite the objections of Sir Henry's sons and Ima's husband, the fiery daughter finally convinced the three men to help lift the adventurer to a guest bedroom. "It can't kill him...right?"

"If it keeps up, yes," the handsome doctor replied slowly. "He's obviously experiencing something inside, but he isn't responding to outside contact."

"He's exactly like my father and Sir Henry," Ima offered, giving Tom a mirroring look of sympathy. The green eyes began to blur with fresh tears. "The doctors can't even get them to swallow liquid to keep from dehydrating."

"So, we're watchin' 'em die before us," Sawyer responded gravely. Feeling a light touch on his left shoulder, the American spy glanced up into Nemo's compassionate eyes.

"Destroying the children through them," Nemo quoted Majeel from the day before. "He's inflicting suffering by slowly killing the parents, and the offspring are helpless to stop it."

Squirming uncomfortably, Gray searched the other League members faces. "Well? Are we just going to sit here and wallow in this misery? We know damn well who's behind all this."

Mina's brows arched up in surprise. "Dorian? Are you actually suggesting doing something to help?"

"I was giving it some thought," Dorian answered defensively. "If we transferred our fear into the form of Sawyer, why can't we transform it into Twazul instead?"

"That's if our fear doesn't overcome us first," Jekyll said, referring to the danger of Hyde taking permanent possession over him.

Ima watched the exchange between the odd looking group with bewilderment. "Who is this Twazul?"

"He's a powerful witch doctor, Miss Ima," Tom explained. "He can attack you through your mind, usin' your fears against you, or to control you."

"Is...is my husband...?"

"Afraid so, Miss," Skinner replied. "I snuck into the library and opened the safe...."

"How did you know the combination?" Ima gasped in disbelief.

The former thief grinned under his white face paint and shrugged. "A little talent I have. Anyway, there's paperwork inside, transferring both Captain Good and Sir Henry's estates to some guy named Turner, which I'm guessing is probably an alias for Twazul. Your husband and Sir Henry's sons are most likely being used to get them notarized Monday, to make it look more legit."

Placing a trembling hand on her cheek, Ima began to understand. "He got my father to sign over everything, but he needed my husband to finish the transaction...? But why? There is men with more than my father, or even Sir Henry."

"Revenge," Nemo answered. "It stems back from when they found King Solomon's mines. The evil priestess who tried to kill them was a relative of Twazul's. He blames them for her death."

"There's also another document in there," the invisible man added. "Seems ol' Allan made Sawyer his next of kin recently."

"Me?" Tom shook himself from his grief, staring at the rogue with wide eyes.

"Yes, he still owns a very large estate of his own down the road from here," Ima confirmed. "Allan had asked my father to help in the arrangements. Though my father hasn't seen him years, Allan kept us informed by frequent correspondence. I have been told by my father many times that he was so grateful you came into Allan's life, Mr. Sawyer." The attractive brunette managed a small smile. "He said you were bringing the old Quatermain back to life again, giving him a reason to face another day."

Blushing, Tom squeezed the adventurer's limp hand. Quatermain had enriched his life as well, and the hunter's fatherly attention and wisdom was worth more than all the wealth of King Solomon's mines.

"Twazul hasn't had Allan transfer his estate over to him yet," Henry surmised, "so he'll need to tie up that loose end."

"He may force Mr. Q to sign," Mina pointed out, "but who is he going to get to finalize it? He needs the heir, and he can't control Tom. "

"Seems ol' Twazie has hit a bit of a snag in his plans," Skinner chuckled quietly. "Probably wasn't counting on Majeel putting the protection spell on Tom."

"That may very well be," Dorian huffed, "but we can't sit around and wait. Today is Saturday, so we have some time before Monday to finish him off before he starts the next phase of his plan."

"But how?" Jekyll insisted. "Remember how Majeel rendered us immobile back on the Nautilus? Who's to say this Twazul isn't capable of it too!"

"He is," Sawyer muttered, recalling how Skinner and Allan were held frozen earlier. "I'm the only one he can't touch." Giving Quatermain's unresponsive hand another squeeze, he gave his fellow League members a determined look. "I don't know how yet, but I have to beat Twazul before Allan and the others die."

"When you do figure it out, keep it to yourself," Rodney said in a serious tone. "Twazie may be able to read minds as well."

"Excellent reasoning, Mr. Skinner," Nemo complimented with a nod of his turbaned head.

"I'm not on this team for only my good looks," the rogue teased with more humor than he felt inside.

The American spy turned his attention back to the man lying motionless in the elaborate bed, making a silent promise not to give up, no matter how hopeless it seemed. The others were part of the solution of defeating Twazul as well...Tom was certain of it, but how could he convince them while the African witch doctor still toyed with their inner fear?

What was the key to unlock the chains that held the remainder of the League trapped in their turmoil? If he did discover the secret, he would have to keep it inside till the last possible moment. This was a house full of subjects Twazul could use for his dark purposes, and despite the presence of his League '_family_', the young spy felt totally alone.

Picking up on the melancholy Sawyer was showing, Henry caught the attention of the others in the room. "I think we should be going. There's nothing more we can do here."

"Yes," Ima agreed sadly. "I would like to check in on my father before I turn in."

"You coming, Tom?" Mina asked gently, placing a hand on the spy's check.

Tom shook his head. "I ain't leavin' his side."

"Make sure you get yourself some sleep," she said in parting. "Somehow we'll find a way to win."

"I like that '_we_' part," Sawyer responded, sharing a brief smile with the beautiful vampire.

When the room finally cleared, Tom let out a shuddering breath, allowing his grief to surface. What hell was his mentor suffering through in his dreams? He also felt the added weight of Ima's heartache as well, knowing exactly what she felt inside. Allan was not his natural father, but their bond was just as strong as any blood one.

The roller coaster of emotions began to hit the young spy hard, his eyelids drooping from the stress and the infinite possibilities of Twazul's treachery. Still gripping Quatermain's hand, Sawyer put his other arm on the mattress, laying his head down upon it with the intention of just resting his eyes.

"I just got you back," he whispered, slowly closing his eyes, "don't leave me again."

Minutes later the exhausted American fell into a troubled sleep, not feeling the adventurer's hand slip out from under his. A calm look came upon Sawyer's winsome features as a familiar touch laid itself on top of his blonde head.

Deep in slumber, he somehow knew it was going to be okay.


	4. chapter 4

**Ten Mara:** Hopefully in chapter 8 we'll learn of Skinner's dreams. LOL..yep, gotta keep that grumpy, over protective Quatermain alive!

**Samyo: **thanks! Did you get to see your movie yet?

**Pandora Moo: **Thank you very much!

**Silent Bob 546: **Thanks very much! There's more where that came from.

**Doped Out Bunny:** Thank you, I hope to keep the interest going

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 4

"How is your father faring this morning, Mrs. Wilson," Mina asked the young woman as they met in the hallway.

"As well as can be expected, Mrs. Harker," Ima answered back with weak smile. "Your Dr. Jekyll is quite amazing. He managed to force my father to drink some water. Later he plans to try some broth."

"Yes, Henry is quite a fellow," Mina found herself grinning fondly. "Sometimes I wish he could understand a little of what others see in him."

"My father said your group contains many unique talents, is Dr. Jekyll's his immense medical knowledge?"

Stifling a chuckle at the younger woman's comment, Mina tilted her head to the side as if pondering the question. "Oh, his skills as a doctor are invaluable, but the other side of him has helped in many times of crisis."

"Wish he was a good cook as well," Ima sighed. "With the servants gone, I must find a way to make breakfast. I'm rather embarrassed to admit that my skills at the culinary arts are lacking to say the least, but I have to do something...anything other than sitting by and...." The brunette let her voice trail off as tears began to well up.

"You have been very brave, Mrs. Wilson. I can only imagine how hard this is for you, watching what happened with your father, and then to deal with all this witch doctor business."

"I appreciate your words, and please call me Ima."

"Thank you, Ima," Mina smiled warmly. "And I insist you call me Mina." Linking her arm through her hostess', the vampiress nodded in the direction of the staircase. "How about you show me the kitchen, and I'll teach you how to make some simple breakfast staples."

The petite features lit up at the suggestion. "That would be wonderful!" As the women descended the stairs, a knock on the door caused their hearts to pound harder in their chests. Was this another unwanted visitor, maybe even Twazul himself to collect Allan's signature on the paper Skinner found?

What little bit of respite Ima had found diminished as she watched her husband, Gerald, open the door almost too eagerly. It was hard enough dealing with her father's withering health, but knowing that her beloved was under this madman's spell as well was testing what little courage she could muster. Captain Good was a loving, devoted parent, and he taught his daughter to keep that stiff upper lip, no matter what life threw at her. Calming her quivering mouth, Ima pressed on with Mina, determined to fight till the end.

Sir Henry's two sons, Robert and Anthony, hurried out of their rooms, hoping it was Twazul to sate their fears of being paupers. It was an elaborate plan. Twazul would inflict their father, Captain Good, and Allan Quatermain, transferring the men's estates to him for the time being so not to draw suspicion. The African mystic even had that transference thought out, though he did not share the specifics with them. When things died down, Twazul would give them their reward for helping.

Robert, the eldest, glared upstairs to the room where Quatermain was in, a hatred filling him inside for the young American who was holding up the plan. Why didn't he succumb to their master? How could they hope to get the hunter's fortune if the heir wouldn't cooperate? The mystic would figure it out, and everything would go on as before.

The noblemen's hopes were dashed when a middle-aged, medium built man entered inside. The boys exchanged scowls. They knew this man all too well; he was the simpleton trying to revive that dilapidated old church down the road. They didn't need his kind snooping around.

"Reverend Timothy!" Ima cried out in relief, leaving Mina's side to greet the pastor.

Anthony stepped up, his demeanor cool. "Reverend," he said through clenched teeth. "This isn't a very good time...."

"Nonsense!" Ima shot back, wrapping the older man's arm around hers.

"Do not forget your place, Dear," Gerald warned. "This is not our home."

"I grew up here as much as Sir Henry's sons did," Ima replied defiantly, "and that precious man told me over and over that this was my home too. Besides, someone needs to show some manners!"

"Miss Ima, if this is a bad time to visit," Reverend Timothy said in his calming voice, "I can return at a later date."

Lowering her head sadly, Ima urged the man to walk with her. "I'm afraid no time will be better...."

"There's been no improvement, I take it."

"Not much, though Dr. Jekyll did manage to get some liquid down his throat. He was trying with Sir Henry next."

"Dr. Jekyll?"

"An associate of mine," Mina explained, coming up to the two. "I am Mrs. Wilhelmina Harker."

"A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Harker," The reverend smiled politely. "Are you friends with the families?"

"With Mr. Quatermain actually."

"Mr. Allan Quatermain?" The reverend's eyes sparkled with interest at the well-known name. "I have always wanted to meet him, see if he's truly as those stories portray him."

"He's a bit more grumpy in real life," a voice said from out of nowhere.

"Who said that?" Ima glanced around. The voice sounded familiar...

"Mr. Skinner, please put on something...," Mina growled to the invisible thief.

"Who are you talking to Mrs. Harker?" Reverend Timothy asked in confusion. There was no one there that he could see. His eyes doubled when he saw a coat floating off a hook near the main door. "Is this house now possessed?"

"Not possessed...yet," Skinner replied, placing his black coat over his naked body. "But if ol' Twazie has his way...he'll own the whole lot.

Seeing the reverend's mouth open and shut wordlessly, Mina rolled her eyes at Rodney's dramatics. "Forgive my colleague, Reverend. This is Mr. Rodney Skinner, also known as the invisible man."

"Invisible?"

"Well, I'm not quite '_visible_', now am I?" the rogue quipped.

Ima cleared her throat nervously. Even she had no idea of Skinner's talent. She had found the pasty look of his skin odd, but felt it rude to study his features more closely. "Mina and I were about to prepare some breakfast, would you like to stay, Reverend?"

The pastor raised a hand in protest. "I thank you for the offer, but I mustn't impose on you and your guests."

Before Ima could reply, a loud thud sounded from upstairs, accompanied by a shout. Tom Sawyer burst out of Allan's room, his hair strewn wildly around his flushed cheeks as he clutched the stair railing looking for the others.

"It's...it's Allan!" the American agent yelled down to the people below, hurrying back inside the room. Fearing the worst, the League and the rest of the household followed.

Jekyll pushed himself past the throng of people, his doctor's kit at the ready. "Tom, how bad is it?" he asked as he finally made it through the doorway.

The young spy's eyes were gleaming with excitement as he lifted Allan's hand in the air. "I woke up, and found Allan's hand on top of my head!" Sawyer exclaimed. Considering the strange looks he received, Tom sighed impatiently and started from the beginning. "I was restin' my head on the bed, and I even had Allan's hand under mine..., but his hand was restin' on top of my head when I woke up. Don't you see? It means he moved it....he moved!"

"Are you positive, Tom?" Skinner asked, almost afraid to hope it was true.

"There's no other way it could've happened...." Sawyer's face fell as he thought of one possibility. "Please tell me one of you didn't place it there, wantin' me to feel better...."

"That would be a cruel thing to do," Mina spoke calmly, giving a searching glare Dorian's way. She could imagine the immortal thinking something that heartless would be kind. Gray shot Mina a look of his own. Even he wouldn't stoop that low as to raise the hellion's hopes that high for nothing.

Checking his leader's heart and blood pressure, Henry gave the room an encouraging smile. "He's calmed down quite a bit since last night," he announced to the relief of the League. Grabbing a pitcher of water and a glass, the doctor tried getting Allan to drink from the cup normally, almost screaming with joy when he heard the audible gulps.

"I knew it!" Sawyer cried out happily, giving the hunter's hand a squeeze. "You're fightin' it...I knew you could!" To everyone's amazement, Allan's hand pulled out of the agent's grasp and reached for the side of Tom's head.

"Had...had...a bit of...h-help...," Quatermain muttered weakly, cracking his eyes open to look at his surrogate son.

"Gah! The old boy's awake!" Skinner yelled out jubilantly.

The League broke out in smiles as they gathered around their leader, expressing gratitude and wonder at Allan's resolve. Though he was smiling bigger than any of the others, Tom remained quiet, his eyes misting over a bit. He scanned over the other members of his team, and his hope strengthened as he watched them fawn all over Quatermain. Even Dorian had a hint of smile on his face, the brown eyes more animated than what the rest of him was showing.

Ima watched the touching scene before her, her eyes filling with tears. She was happy for Tom, and especially for Allan, but it also brought home in more vivid detail how her father was still unchanged. Patting Revered Timothy's arm in parting, Captain Good's daughter began to turn quietly to leave the room, when she heard Sawyer call out after her.

"Miss Ima, wait up!" Though he hated leaving Quatermain's side, he also understood the pain in the woman's eyes. His happiness would not make her situation any better. Leading Ima down the hall and away from the others so they could talk privately, Tom looked earnestly into her green eyes.

"Ma'am, I know your father can fight it as well, but you have to help him," he spoke in a sober tone. "Have you tried sittin' by his bedside talkin', holding his hand..., anythin' for physical contact?"

"No," Ima responded, shaking her head sadly. "Gerald said I shouldn't bother him."

"Well I say you bother him constantly," Sawyer insisted, "startin' right now. Don't leave his side 'till he snaps out of it. Make sure he feels your touch too. I know when I went into shock a while back, Allan did that for me, always havin' one of his hands on my head or my hand. Talked to me a lot too. He wanted me to know he was there, and it worked."

Her heart filling with renewed hope, Ima impulsively hugged the handsome spy. "I will! Thank you so much!" Lifting her skirts, the proper Victorian lady raced down the hall to her father's room.

Grinning, Tom swivelled around, anxious to get back to his father figure and the others. His journey was halted by the sudden appearance of Reverend Timothy. "Hello...," the blonde agent greeted. Who was this?

"Please forgive me, young man," the pastor smiled, "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'm Reverend Timothy." He extended out a hand. "I'm a friend of the Good family."

"Nice to meet you, reverend. I'm Tom Sawyer." The American shook the other man's hand firmly, looking past him to Allan's room. "I hate to be rude, but...."

"I'm sorry, I know you want to get back to your friends," Reverend Timothy said, "but I need to know what is going on in this house. Mrs. Wilson is a dear soul, and I want to be able to help her and the Captain in any way I can. Also Sir Henry and his family. I truly hate to bother you..."

Suppressing an impatient sigh, Sawyer nodded his head in compliance. "I'm afraid I can't tell you much...."

"I sense an evil that has overtaken this household," Timothy began, his voice lowering to a whisper. "And then there's Sir Henry's sons...they're not the least bit concerned for their father's health."

"You're right, there is an evil that's hit here," Tom acknowledged, "but me and the League will set it straight."

"The League? You're not referring to The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen I've been hearing about?" The reverend smiled in chagrin. "How ignorant of me! That would explain something I saw earlier," he remarked, remembering Skinner's dramatic introduction.

"That's right, Sir," Tom confirmed, still glancing down towards Allan's room. "I wish I could tell you more, but believe me when I say we're gonna do everythin' we can to help Sir Henry and Captain Good."

"I understand, Mr. Sawyer, and I thank you for your time."

"Nice meetin' you," Tom offered, stepping sideways to head back down to the other side of the hallway. The young spy had barely walked past the reverend when he was hit from behind.

Reverend Timothy grabbed a hold of the dazed American, keeping him from falling to the floor as he covered the boy's mouth with a hand, and drug him to a nearby bedroom. Retrieving some long, thin strips of rawhide he had stashed there from an earlier '_visit_', the pastor quickly bound his stunned prey, tying a gag on for added measure in case Sawyer came to his senses enough to cry out for help.

Walking over to the massive fireplace, the minister felt around the top stones, smiling manically when one pushed in, causing the hearth to move over, revealing a secret passageway. Sir Henry's sons had easily divulged the hidden room to Twazul, and the witch doctor added it to his plan to kidnap the American. The African had expected Majeel to give Quatermain a special protection, not the youth, but he had planned for everything...even recruiting a willing accomplice.

Hearing a muffled groan coming from his stirring captive, Reverend Timothy moved swiftly, pulling the young agent inside the secret corridor. As soon as he entered, the minister scanned the immediate area for the lantern he had stashed, lighting it before he triggered the mechanism that closed the concealed doorway.

Struggling with the boy's dead weight, Reverend Timothy hefted Sawyer over his right shoulder, and pressed on till he reached a door that led to a long forgotten chapel built centuries ago. Dropping Tom unceremoniously on the dust thick floor, the pseudo man of the cloth began to prepare for his unsuspecting victim.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Allan, you should take it easy," Dr. Jekyll admonished, pushing the hunter back down on the mattress.

"Where is Thomas?" Allan demanded, batting Henry's hand away.

"He's obviously still talking to Ima," Mina sighed. "You know as well as anyone what a big heart he has. He couldn't bear the thought of her suffering through his happiness."

"And Twazul is still out there somewhere," Allan pointed out angrily. "He shouldn't be out of our sight."

"He's the one who has the blessing of protection," Nemo reminded his friend. "Sawyer is the safest out of any of us."

"Blessing or not, he's not to go off alone," Quatermain groused, ripping off his blankets. Hearing Mina's embarrassed gasp, he hurriedly re-covered himself. "Can't a man get bloody dressed without onlookers?"

Knowing it was a useless battle, the remainder of the League left the adventurer alone to dress, hoping to find their wayward American before their leader did.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hearing a knock upon her father's bedroom door, Ima glanced down at her beloved parent, bursting to share her good news. Following Tom's advice, she began to speak to her father, holding his hand in hers. Minutes ago she felt the faint pressure of his fingers, signaling the first sign of life since Captain John Good fell unconscious over a day ago.

"Come in," she called out cheerfully. Seeing it was Skinner she grinned wide. "It's working, just like Mr. Sawyer said! Father just squeezed my hand!"

Skinner tipped his black hat and smiled. "Sure am glad to hear that. Speaking of ol' Tom, you ain't seen him about have you?"

"Not since I left him in the hallway after I went to see my father." She glanced at the thief anxiously. "There's nothing wrong is there?"

"Naw," Rodney said in a dismissive manner, "just wondering that's all. Bet I missed him, and he's back with Allan right now."

Feeling a slight tightening around her hand, Ima gestured for Skinner to see for himself. "Look! He's doing it again!" Her excitement grew when Captain Good's eyelids fluttered open.

"Father! Oh thank heavens you're coming out of it!" With tears of joy flowing down her face, the brunette hugged her father.

"Hey! I think he's trying to say something!" the rogue noted with urgency, quickly grabbing a nearby glass of water. Captain Good greedily drank the life giving liquid, his eyes pleading between his daughter and this odd looking stranger.

"What is it, Father?" Ima asked. "Would you like more water?" She reached over for the pitcher, but Good's hand wrapped around the dainty wrist, stopping her movement.

"N-no...," he forced out. "Allan....trap...."

"He knows," Rodney tried to reassure the agitated man. " Even beat the mind control himself, just like you did."

The information did nothing to calm Good's frantic movements. Pointing to the water pitcher, the former captain of the Royal Navy took a few more sips. "His Thomas is in danger," he spoke, grasping a hold of the thief's coat.

"Thomas?" Quatermain stood in the open doorway, his hazel eyes blazing.

"Twazul...going to take...him...," John Good tried to explain, reaching out for his old friend. "Make you obey."

"No one can touch him," Skinner said. "Tom has a spell of protection from a witch doctor bloke back in Africa. Twazul or anyone he controls can't harm him."

"Majeel?" Good asked Allan.

The adventurer grabbed a hold of the captain's hand, relieved to see his friend all right, but worry for his surrogate son held back any plans for a reunion. "Yes, Majeel blessed him, but it's not a foolproof guarantee. Do you know Twazul's plans?"

Taking another drink of water, Good nodded. "Some. I know he's...using Sir Henry's sons...."

"To turn over his fortune," Allan finished sadly. "Your son-in-law is being used to secure yours."

"I suspected as much," Good frowned, kissing his daughter on the forehead. "Thankfully he has left my daughter out of it."

"He's the one with the legal rights, now that he's married to Ima."

"You think Twazie was planning on pinching Tom to make Allan obey?" Skinner pressed. Deep down the rogue was as concerned as Quatermain about the American, viewing Sawyer as a kind of pesky kid brother.

"He's figured out Sawyer is your legal heir," Good added, his voice and strength returning, "and knows that you'll do anything to get him back, including signing over everything you own."

"He's right," Allan replied, his eyes growing hard, "but I'm getting the boy back on my terms!" Smacking Skinner on his coat sleeve, the explorer jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Get the others and start searching the grounds. Tell Jekyll to come find me, I'll need Hyde's nose to find Thomas."

"He won't like that," Rodney muttered under his breath.

"Tell him to be more worried about me than what Hyde might do," Quatermain shot back. "The lad wouldn't go this long without coming back to check on me, unless there was something stopping him." Nodding mutely, the invisible man hurried to do his leader's bidding, his own gut telling him Tom was in trouble as well.

Giving Quatermain a hug, Ima took her place back by her father's side. "I'll pray you find Mr. Sawyer safe. I had all but given up hope, thinking there was nothing I can do.... I owe him so much."

"So do I," Allan admitted, his features growing softer as he thought on his protege.

"Bring your boy back," Good said, hugging his daughter closer to him. "Godspeed, Allan."

The old friends locked eyes, drawing strength from each other. With a tug on his hat, the great Allan Quatermain left to begin the hunt.


	5. chapter 5

**Sabrina: **Thanks for your comments on both my stories! I do have one more LXG one posted here: "The Special Day". It's only two chapters long and finished. I've done fanfiction for the Magnificent Seven television series, but not on this site.

**Ten Mara: **Yes, poor Thomas...but how we love it! Thank you many times over for your input...as always, it was invaluable!

**Silent Bob 546: **Ol' Quatermain should watch who he sheds his blankets in front of! Read this chapter to find out what happens to poor Sawyer...wink wink. I can see Mina warming up nicely to Jekyll if a certain former love butts out.

**Liss:** Thank you so much! I'm blushing here just reading your comments! Happy Holidays to you as well (sorry they're belated).

**Samyo: **Glad you finally got to see your movie. I take it Tony's character dies? How does he look with hair? Have a safe trip back home.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 5

Reverend Timothy watched Sawyer's return to consciousness with great interest, curious to see what the American would do first. He had heard they could be a bit on the feisty side; would this one prove the stereotype as well?

Tom slowly opened his eyes, his pulse quickening when he felt the presence of something on his face. A gag? Who whacked him so hard? He was talking to.... Forcing his eyes to focus, Sawyer searched the room for the only person who could have hit him from behind. It didn't take long, his captor was only a few feet away, observing him with a smile.

Timothy laughed at the angry look on the spy's face, bending down to where Sawyer lay on the floor. "No fierce struggle? I must say I'm a bit disappointed," he jabbed, grabbing a handful of blonde hair. "Maybe you're smart enough to know it's a losing fight."

Sawyer made no attempts to make a sound, only sending a harsh glare his kidnaper's way. Feeling the bonds that held his hands behind him, the agent realized he had been tied up with rawhide. If done the right way, the more you tried to get free, the more the bonds would tighten. Testing his theory with a slight turn of his one wrist, Tom had to concede he was stuck for now.

"I'm sure you have all sorts of questions," the minister talked nonchalantly, pulling the gag down from Tom's face. "Feel free to ask. We'll be here a while, might as well make the time pass quicker...wouldn't you agree?" When the American agent didn't respond, Reverend Timothy yanked on Sawyer's hair. "It's up to you, boy. If you don't want to talk, you can spend your time screaming in pain. No one is going to hear you down here."

"Just where is '_here_'?" Tom finally spoke, remembering the tiny walking talker he still had in the inner pocket of his vest. Turning himself slightly to one side, he maneuvered his arm so that it pressed upon the device, hoping it would be enough to transmit to Nemo's duplicate.

"Wouldn't you like to know," the minister grinned mockingly.

"You're the one wantin' to be all chatty," Tom shot back. "Besides, how the hell am I goin' to be able to run and tell anyone?"

The reverend chuckled at his prisoner's bravado. "I guess one should know where he's going to die at..."

"Let me guess, after Allan signs the papers that gives Twazul his worldly possessions?"

"Actually, I get to kill you after Quatermain personally finalizes the rights, which gives you almost two days. After that, everyone is going to suffer and die from a horrible fate, so there will be no one left to morn over your passing."

"What?" Sawyer's eyes lit up in alarm. "What do you mean by everyone?"

Giving the side of Tom's face a hard tap, the fake minister smiled ferally. " Eventually, everyone in England."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I can't trust Hyde!" Henry protested hotly. "Do you realize what you're asking me to do, Allan? If Twazul takes control of my alter ego, everyone in this house is doomed! Including Tom."

"There's no damn other way!" Quatermain insisted. "You said so yourself that Hyde won't help you while you remain in your form. The lad could be anywhere...and if we try the conventional path, it could be too late!"

Captain Nemo rushed up to the two men, his face flushed from running. "We may have a way! Sawyer still has the communication transistor on him, and somehow it's transmitting a signal!"

"The bloody what?"

"The walking talker," Skinner supplied, arriving with Gray and Mina.

Positioning the small device in several different directions, Nemo grunted in frustration. "I can hear talking, but it's too faint for me to make out. He must be somewhere within thick walls."

"Allow me," Mina insisted, taking the machine from the captain. With her bat like hearing, she could easily make out the voices and words being spoken. "It's Tom," she informed the others, "and...and Reverend Timothy...."

"The minister?" Skinner nearly choked. "Twazul took him too?"

"I think our good reverend kidnaped Tom," Mina corrected, raising a finger to her full lips for silence. Her eyes widened in horror as she overheard Twazul's master plan. With the money received from the three combined fortunes, he would create a machine capable of intensifying his mental powers, shredding the minds of every man, woman, and child in Great Britain.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How could you help him in something so cruel?" Tom demanded, praying inside his friends were listening as well. Even if they couldn't save him, they had to save all those innocent lives. "The League will stop Twazul, no matter what happens to me."

"Your spunk is tiresome," Timothy said dryly, retying the gag, "but expected since you still have the fire of life in you. Let's see how brave you are when it's fading."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"There's no more talking," Mina frowned, lowering the walking talker, "and the reverend didn't reveal anything about the location he's keeping Tom in."

His face turning into a mask of hard steel, Allan resumed his badgering of Dr. Jekyll. "No more time for games, we need Hyde!"

"Wait a minute here!" Skinner interrupted, as unwilling as Jekyll to unleash the unpredictable Mr. Hyde. "Let's think this through.... Ima was talking to Tom down the hallway, then she leaves him alone. Reverend Timothy was outside Allan's room..."

"I never even noticed him," Gray recalled. "He could have easily made his way towards Sawyer while we were distracted by Quatermain's recovery."

"And being a so called man of the cloth, our young friend would have lowered his defenses," Nemo added.

"Aren't we forgetting about his '_protection'_?_" _Henry threw in. "If this man was under Twazul's influence, he couldn't hurt Tom, but I can't imagine him going anywhere with this stranger either."

"I don't think this Reverend Timothy was under any influence," Mina growled, her eyes glowing red in fury at the devilish deed committed against her young friend. "He was placed here on purpose....willingly."

Quatermain's attitude mirrored the vampiress'. "The perfect tool for Twazul."

While the others spun their theories, Rodney surveyed the upper balcony that housed the majority of bedrooms. Captain Good's room was on the far left, near the staircase, where Allan's was on the farthest right. There was three other rooms between the two points....

"He had to have been taken into one of those rooms," the invisible thief announced, pointing upstairs.

"Bloody hell! He's right!" Allan suddenly realized, picking up on the rogue's train of thought. "Someone would've noticed the bastard taking Thomas if he tried escaping down the stairs. There's no where else." Their hopes renewed, the League bounded up the staircase behind their leader, splitting into groups of two to inspect the three bedrooms in question.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Allan and Skinner entered the room in the middle of the hallway, surprised to see Gerald Wilson standing stiffly by the window. "How dare you enter without permission," he scowled, storming up to the two men. "Get out!"

"I don't have bloody time for this," Quatermain barked, landing a hard punch to the younger man's jaw, instantly downing Ima's husband without batting an eye.

"Should I be disturbed by the fact you've obviously have done that before?" Rodney quipped, viewing the unconscious form at their feet.

"I wouldn't worry, unless you piss me off," the hunter muttered, beginning the search of the room.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dorian and Mina rushed into the room nearest to Captain Good's, their forward progress stopped by the furious figure of Sir Henry's son, Robert.

"You presume too much to be wandering around my father's home without the proper permission!" he snarled.

"Such anger," Gray smiled coyly, feeling his sword cane under his hand. "You wouldn't by chance be hiding anything...or someone?"

"When the master comes back, you won't be so presumptuous," Robert grinned triumphantly. "And your precious American won't be able to stop him!"

"Precious is the last word I would use," the immortal huffed indignantly, inching his blade out, "but he does manage to make himself useful from time to time." His sword fully unsheathed, Dorian placed it at the tip of the stunned nobleman's throat. "Let's see how useful you can be...."

"He doesn't know Tom's whereabouts, he's only following orders to stop us from snooping around" Mina said, placing her hand on top of Dorian's. "I don't think he even knows about Reverend Timothy."

"That nosey minister?" Robert asked in disgust.

"How long has he been here?" Mina queried smoothly.

"About two months too long."

Sharing a knowing glance with Gray, she urged the aristocrat to lower his weapon. "This is an old castle, are there any '_special_' hidden rooms you might know of?" The vampiress began to smile at Robert, her body and face emitting a sensual desire that drew the young man closer.

Consumed by his manly passions, Robert began to kiss Mina passionately. Her prey in her power, she purred her question again.

One eyebrow arching in mild surprise, Dorian heard Sir Henry's unwilling son divulge the secret, even adding that Twazul knew of the hidden chapel as well. The information was rewarded by a bite on his neck from Mina, the female vampire making sure to only take enough blood to render Robert senseless.

Licking her tongue over her blood covered lips, Mina met Dorian's impressed gaze. "Having sway over sexual desire does have it's advantages."

"You belittle your natural femininity," Gray commented huskily with a slight bow. "I never had to be '_swayed_'."

Feeling her temperature rising from the memories of their past flings, Mina fought to compose herself. This was not the time to dwell on a past love, no matter how close that lover was....or how alive those feelings really were. "We have to tell Mr. Q the entry is in the room they're in." As the former lovers left, they saw Nemo and Jekyll exit the other bedroom, both pairs meeting right in front of the middle doorway.

"There's a secret passageway in this room, that leads to a small chapel!" Mina explained, ushering her teammates inside. "It has to be where Tom was taken!"

The room was in shambles, everything that could be moved was cast aside like a turbulent storm had struck, and Skinner and Quatermain were in the thick of it, their faces mirroring looks of futility. There wasn't any hidden stairs, trap doors, fake walls in a closet....nothing.

Squaring her shoulders, Mina purposely walked up to the fireplace, pushing on the exact stone to activate the doorway. All but Dorian stood in awe as the 'unmoveable' object slid over. Quatermain began to rush into the corridor, but Skinner stopped him, mouthing a silent 'no' as he removed any trace of visibleness.

Understanding the strategy, the adventurer nodded in conformation, thankful for the rogue's quick thinking. In his haste to retrieve Sawyer, he almost alerted the boy's kidnaper they were on to him. Anxiously he allowed another to go in his place, wishing he could be there for his surrogate son, but knowing it was not feasible at the moment.

"There's another door that leads to the chapel," Mina informed the invisible man in a whisper, giving him a small kiss on the check before Skinner fully removed his face paint. "Be careful, and find Tom."

Showing more confidence than he felt, Rodney wiped off the last bit of evidence of his presence. "With a send-off like that, a man can do anything," he spoke softly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reverend Timothy sat in a chair near the pulpit, sharpening his Bowie knife as he shot glances over at his prisoner. This boy was too calm for his liking. Why wasn't he showing fear in those eyes? All he saw was anger. He wasn't silly enough to think his friends could find him? Inspecting his blade, the false minister decided to place some fear into his captive.

"Ever see someone skinned alive?" the pastor asked casually, smiling at the jerk of the blonde head. "Amazing what you can do with the human skin, almost like using animal hides..." He walked behind Sawyer, and grabbing a hold of the American's shirt collar, he pulled Tom up slightly, placing the tip of the knife under his prisoner's chin.

"I'm bored quite frankly. Thought you might like a demonstration to liven things up a bit. Give you a peek of what's going to happen in a day or so." Seeing the resistance building in the hazel eyes, Timothy laughed. "Now that's more like it, I knew you had a bit of fight in you." While keeping the knife close to Tom's neck, Reverend Timothy pulled on the agent's shirt, drawing him up enough to make a grab around the middle for better control. The blade was temporarily lowered, and Sawyer used the reprieve to strike.

Tom kicked at Reverend Timothy's shin with the heels of his boots, causing a cry of pain and a loosening of the tight grip. The American spy then lunged to the opposite side, tearing himself free from his captor's hold. Falling to the ground, Sawyer awaited the expected response, and when the minister came rushing after him in fury, the agent kicked his legs up and behind his pursuer, his bound feet hitting Timothy in back of the calves, knocking him backwards.

A sickening thud echoed in the room as the evil reverend's head split open on the corner of a pew he connected with. Avoiding looking at the ghastly sight, Sawyer focused on retrieving the Bowie, trying desperately to free himself. The more he moved his hands to better grip the knife, the more the rawhide constricted around his wrists, making it hard to maneuver the blade.

He had to get free, the others still had no idea where he was, and Twazul was moving ahead with his diabolical plan. A faint noise alerted the agent to another possibly coming into the chapel. Was it Twazul? Calming his rapid breathing, Tom kept the knife near his numbing fingers, ready to use it if he could. If it was the dark-hearted bastard, Sawyer knew Twazul couldn't touch him, and the only one who could was dead.

His eyes narrowing dangerously, Sawyer awaited the opening of the door, prepared to do whatever it took to defeat this newest threat.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Skinner cursed under his breath when the crusty lock creaked under the pressure of being picked. The slightest noise could give Tom's kidnaper the head's up, and surprise was the only weapon he had at the moment. Staying still for a few moments, the thief thought over his possible plans of action. If he only knew where Reverend Timothy was, that would help solve one dilemma. But what if he had his young friend nearby?

What the hell should he do? He couldn't go charging in without knowing.

Whoever was on the other side of the door was hesitating, Tom guessed. Twazul would have come barging in like a conquering king. Could the others have found him? Scooting over to a nearby statue, the spy used a marble hand protruding from the work of art to work the gag from off his mouth.

"Hello?" Sawyer called out, hoping it was a friend, not a foe. He still had the knife barely clinging in his cold hands, the circulation being cut off from the bonds. Letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the door open with no one on the other side, the spy knew he was safe. It had to be Skinner.

"I let you out of my sight for one second, and look what happens," Rodney said cheerily, thankful to see Sawyer unharmed and alone. "Where's that low life who took you?" he asked, whistling when he noticed how tight the spy's hands were tied.

Tom thrusted his head in the direction of the dead imposter. "Meetin' his maker." Wincing when he felt an accidental nick from the knife, the agent turned worried eyes on his friend. "And Allan?"

"Up, around and loaded for bear," Skinner joked, using one of Tom's Americanisms. "Sorry 'bout the cut, that rawhide is about like a second skin."

"Don't worry on it," Sawyer shook his head, using his former gag to wrap around the cut. "How is Captain Good and Sir Henry doin'?"

"Captain Good is up, thanks to you," Skinner replied, the Bowie knife floating in the air as it came to the agent's bound ankles. "Sir Henry, well... no one's seem him yet, but we have been worrying about someone else recently."

Rubbing his hands together to get some feeling back into them, Sawyer nodded gravely. "We have to break him of Twazul's hold. He doesn't have much time left before his body shuts down."

"Ain't getting no support from his boys," Rodney commented, freeing his younger teammate and helping him up.

"Maybe Allan, Captain Good, or even Ima can do the trick," Sawyer said hopefully, anxious to see his father figure again. Carefully he walked out the door with his invisible friend, looking around in wonder at where he had been taken. A secret passageway?

"Thomas!"

The young agent had barely stepped out of the corridor when he was grabbed into a big, impulsive hug by Quatermain. Smiling, Tom returned the fatherly gesture, grateful to see the adventurer back to himself. Soon the others joined in with pats, chorus' of relief, and in Mina's case, a kiss to the forehead.

"Did he hurt you, lad?" Allan demanded, doing a poor job of hiding the concern in his voice.

"Not really," Tom admitted, absently placing a hand in back of his head where Timothy had hit him. When Quatermain pressed gently on the area, the spy winced involuntarily, giving away his injury.

"Dammit, he did hurt you!" the hunter roared, prepared to beat the living hell out of the bastard who dared harm his protege.

"He's dead," Sawyer informed his mentor. "We have to break Sir Henry of this mind control, and then we can go after Twazul and finish him off once and for all."

"You go and have John and Ima help you," Allan answered, squeezing Sawyer's shoulder as he started to leave the room. "I'm going to find Twazul."

"Not without me."

"You have a head wound. Besides, I've broken Twazul's hold over me...it's personal, boy."

"I've never met Sir Henry before, only what I've read from the stories," Sawyer tried to bargain, chasing after Allan.

"Tell him one of those damnable lies, and that'll get ol' Henry out of bed," Quatermain winked half-heartedly. Seeing the blonde agent still shadowing him, the adventurer paused, his face softening a little. "Thomas," he sighed, "I need for you to stay here and help the others. Twazul will eventually try and use them, but you're the only one who can stop it. I also want Jekyll to check out that lump in back of your head."

"I'm fine," Tom argued. "I think we all need to go after Twazul."

"Yes, we could all go, but it'll be the same...you'll have to stop the others from obeying the twisted images in their minds. It'll be better to deal with it here."

"Translation..., I'll be safer here," Sawyer muttered, frowning as he crossed his arms.

Chuckling, the seasoned explorer slapped his protege on the back. "Now there's my smart boy." Noting the wheels of ingenuity sparking to life behind those expressive eyes, Allan grabbed Tom's left upper arm. "NO!" he ordered forcibly.

Satisfied he had made his point, Quatermain eyed the others in the room, a silent order given to them in parting. He was doing this alone.

"Then at least take this," the American spoke quietly, holding the walking talker in his outstretched hand. "The minute it gets to be too much...."

"I'll call, son," Allan said with a wan smile, lightly ruffling Tom's shaggy mass of hair before turning to leave.

"He'll be fine," Jekyll offered in comfort, probing the tender lump in back of the spy's head. "You're lucky Reverend Timothy didn't hit you harder. He could've killed you."

Sawyer winced and pulled away from the doctor's hands. "It's just a bump..."

"A bump that will increase in swelling and pain if you don't take proper care of yourself," Jekyll admonished.

"Twazul can hurt Allan," the blonde agent replied worriedly, "or use someone else to do it." Looking at his teammates, Sawyer knew the adventurer shouldn't face the threat singly. "Skinner?"

"I'm on it," Skinner accepted. "I'll even pinch the walking talker if the old boy won't listen to reason and use it myself."

The youth smiled his appreciation, listening to the invisible thief's bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. At least his father figure wouldn't be totally alone.


	6. chapter 6

**Lisel: **Thank you so much! I enjoy writing the father/son stuff...so happy you are enjoying how I portray it.

**Ten Mara:** Thank you thank you...and the same sentiments sent your way as well.

**LotRseer3350: **Thanks! I'm working on chapter 17 of LXG 2 as I'm writing this...being picky again...LOL. Actually this story takes place after LXG 2, (I know, stupid me didn't think about that when I started to write this for a challenge) so you will be reading about the "Thomas" affair soon...hehehe.

**Samyo: **That sucks Tony's character gets wasted. Was it a heroic effort? Watch LXG, maybe that'll get your writer's block going. I'm having a bit with LXG 2. I know what I want, but am having a hard time finding the right words.

**Silent Bob 546: **Allan going into that 'father' mode again, but maybe this chapter will explain more as well. Those men of action hate missing any of the action...LOL. Even if they fall on their faces unconscious because of it.

**Artemis Gray: **I thank you. I won't kill any of the League off, you have my word. As much as Tom and Ima would make a cute couple, she is married. Now Mina and Dorian could be different..but...I also harbor some tendicies with Mina and Jekyll too...

**Sabrina: **Yeah, Tom would have freed himself eventually. He is a Secret Service agent...he's no wuss. Gave Skinner some scene time...wink. Nemo invented a cool car, and it had a frequency...so why not a walkie talkie?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 6

Squeezing the walking talker tightly in his hand, Quatermain sighed. Majeel had placed Sawyer under protection, and it would only be common sense to have the boy go with him as backup...even injured, so why did he leave his protege behind? Was it because of pride once again? The great Allan Quatermain could handle any challenge placed before him? The explorer shook his head. No, he was too old and tired to believe that anymore. Life had shown him over and over that he was vulnerable...just like anyone else.

Deep down he knew the real reason he didn't take the boy along; fear, plain and simple. He was afraid of Sawyer finding out about his inner qualms of caring for another life, having the responsibility placed upon his already burdened shoulders. Fear of allowing his protege to take Harry's place in this world, and absolving himself of the guilt of his son's death.

Damn all the heavy thinking! Fear wasn't in his vocabulary.

Glancing back down at Nemo's invention, the adventurer pushed on the button, feeling awkward as he spoke into it, but feeling compelled to just the same. He was in too deep now to pretend he didn't care. "Has Thomas been checked over?"

Nemo's rich baritone sounded over the device. "Yes, but it's nothing too serious. He might have some uncomfortable headaches for a couple of days."

Grateful nothing major was ailing his surrogate son, Allan gave one last command. "Make sure the lad rests after Sir Henry is out of danger."

"That deed will be accomplished faster when you return," Nemo countered.

Unsure how to end the conversation, Quatermain shrugged. Goodbye didn't seem right.... "Quatermain's done," he muttered sheepishly into the speaker.

"Nemo out."

"Hmmmm....rather catchy."

A chuckle sounded on the walker talker before the communication ended.

Bending down, the hunter found the big prints left by Twazul's expensive, tailored shoes. From the way the mystic dressed, he liked the finer things of British society. Maybe so much that he would stay at the fanciest hotel in London. The idea rang inside the explorer's head like a bell, and picking out the newer tracks of a carriage, Quatermain knew his hunch was right. The trail was leading straight into London's richer side of town.

Allan pressed onward. "Come on, Skinner," he called out.

"How did you know?" the rogue answered in disbelief. He made very sure he wasn't making any sounds to be detected.

"I know Thomas," Quatermain rolled his eyes.

Hurrying to catch up to his leader, the invisible rogue laughed. "Guess you're right there. Seems he's as worried about you as you are about him."

"I'm a big, old boy, and can take care of myself," Allan muttered as he continued his journey down the road.

"But shouldn't Tom go? He has the best chance of facing Twazul. We could still be put under his mind control, or the people he has under it could be used against us."

"I fought his control," the hunter admitted. "Damn hard too, but...."

"A certain American Secret Service Agent got through that thick skull?" Rodney finished.

"Remember what I said earlier about pissing me off," Allan warned without his usual bite. As they neared the city limits, Quatermain hailed a cab, instructing the driver to take them to the ritziest hotel in London.

Stepping out of the carriage, Skinner chuckled to himself as he stared up at the magnificent structure. "I sure do have some fond memories of this place."

"Just keep your hands to yourself," Allan threatened, going through the revolving doors and into elaborately gilded lobby. The adventurer scowled at the over extravagance. He preferred the simpler way of life back in Africa.

"Mr. Twazul will see you in his suite," the desk clerk informed the stunned League members as they strolled up closer. "You must leave your weapons here, Mr. Quatermain."

Allan nodded, and complying with the mastermind's wishes, he handed over his large hunting knife. The fact the mystic knew he was coming unnerved the explorer a bit, but he had beat him before, and he could do it again. Walking into the glass elevator, Quatermain deliberately kept his mind thinking he was doing this solo, not wanting Skinner's presence discovered.

Twazul greeted the renowned adventurer when the door opened on the top floor, his tall, muscular figure garbed in a robe of the finest silk imported from Japan. "Greetings Mr. Quatermain," he spoke in a amiable tone, looking past Allan. "Hello to you as well, Mr. Skinner." He smiled broadly at the disappointment that flashed through the hunter's mind.

"Please, feel free to enjoy my hospitality," Twazul gestured towards his room, acting more like a gracious host than a cold blooded fiend.

"Why do I feel like I just walked into a spider's web?" Skinner said out loud.

"Oh you have," Twazul admitted. He turned to Quatermain. "I find it amusing how you think you're protecting the American...once again allowing your pride to get in the way."

"You better not lay a hand on him again!" Allan thrusted himself in front of the mystic's face.

"I can't, remember?" Twazul baited his enemy.

"Well, you tried, and your damn spy was killed."

"I know, but I can hurt the boy through other means." The dark brown eyes took on a sinister glow as he stared at his prey.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Who....who told you....those...bloody awful...lies?" Sir Henry Curtis demanded as angrily as he could, bolting up in the bed after Sawyer had recounted some of the tales he had read from a magazine about King Solomon's Mines. The nobleman was plied with water and broth soon after, much to relief of most the household.

At first surprised, Tom smiled down at the older man. "Allan said that tellin' those stories would get you riled up."

"And you are?" Sir Henry asked, taking in the blonde youth.

"He's Allan's Thomas," Captain Good supplied, patting his old friend on the arm in relief. He and Sawyer had spent the better part of the afternoon talking to Sir Henry, begging him to return to them, but when the American started to recite those outlandish tales... Good could see the anger flash in those otherwise impassive eyes.

Sir Henry became animated. "The Thomas?" he asked his friend. Receiving a nod, the aristocrat shook the spy's hand warmly. "You certainly keep our old companion on his toes," the man joked, happy to be among the living once again.

One sandy brow raised in question. "What did Allan exactly say about me?"

The two old men exchanged mischievous glances. "Oh, enough," Good smiled politely.

Watching the long time friends comfort each other, the agent inched back, not wanting to intrude. He was just relieved the nobleman was all right. Excusing himself, Tom hurried to find the others. Sir Henry was out of danger, so maybe now he could try to find Allan.

As he descended the staircase, the spy felt a slight dizziness hit him. He had pushed the growing headache aside, only focusing on getting Sir Henry to awake, but now the unsuspecting blow his kidnaper had given him was making it's presence known. Clutching the railing tightly, Tom allowed the spell to pass before continuing.

"I knew you weren't well," Dorian hissed at the bottom of the stairs, witnessing the agent's moment of unsteadiness. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Get down here, and stay down here." Giving a snort of disgust, the immortal climbed the stairs himself, grabbing one of Sawyer's arms to lead him down.

"Jekyll!" Gray bellowed, causing Tom to shrink back in pain.

Dr. Jekyll hurried into the main hall, his face anxious. "Is anything wrong?"

"This fool almost fell down the stairs."

"I'm fine," Tom began to protest, but it was pointless.

"Your eyes were nearly crossing, your face turned white, and you almost lost your balance.... Of course you're fine," Gray frowned. "How many times do I have to remind you that both our futures depend on you?"

"Don't be gettin' all mushy on me, Gray," Tom shot back snidely, "or I might start bawlin'."

Seeing the pain shadowing the American's eyes, Henry shook his head. "You need to go lie down a bit."

"I will, as soon as we take care of Twazul."

"You are not fit to challenge him in your condition," Nemo said, coming into the room. "A bit of rest might do some good."

"But...." Sawyer rolled his eyes. Didn't they understand? What if Allan needed him?

"If Quatermain should call, we will alert you," Nemo assured his young friend. "There's a room on the ground floor that you can sleep in...."

"I also brought some headache medicine in my satchel," Henry added. "That will help tremendously with the pain."

"I have to be alert! Even if you woke me up, I'll still be groggy...."

"Quatermain said himself he wanted you to rest after Sir Henry awoke," the captain said sternly.

"Allan called? When? Is he all right? Where is he?" As Sawyer inundated Nemo with questions, the Indian and Dr. Jekyll inched the spy towards the small room that was off the study.

"I don't want to lie down," Tom protested vigorously. "I know you mean well, but I can't!"

"Just relax on the settee, and I'll answer your questions the best I can," Nemo bribed, hoping to at least get the youth to relax.

"Can I have the walkin' talker too?" the blonde agent asked. "That way if Allan calls...."

Exchanging a look with Nemo, Henry sighed heavily. "Let him have it. It's the only way to get him to cooperate."

Nemo held the gadget out, but pulled it out of Sawyer's reach before the spy could grasp it. "You lie down first."

Throwing his hands up, the secret service agent agreed, reluctantly following the captain into the extra room. As he laid his head down on a few sofa pillows, Tom exhaled in contentment. It felt like heaven to close his eyes, which relieved some of the pain and pressure. Okay, maybe he would relax...a little.

Nemo watched Sawyer's breathing even out, the face becoming more calm as the young man dozed. Gently placing the portable transistor near Tom's hand, the Indian captain took a nearby afghan blanket and covered the boy, careful not to rouse him.

"You have kept your bargain, so I shall keep mine," he said with a smile under his heavy, dark beard.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We aren't falling for your games again, Twazul," Quatermain said, itching to beat the man's head in. "If I even suspect you are harming that boy...."

"But you wait for information before destroying me?" Twazul teased, reading the adventurer's mind. "Please, both of you sit, and I will be glad to tell you of the future."

"I'd rather stand, thank you," Rodney replied dryly, keeping himself near the door.

Twazul shrugged his broad shoulders. "As you wish. Where would you like me to begin?"

"The '_why_' would be nice."

"Shut up, Skinner," Allan groused in the invisible man's direction. "We already know that."

"Or so you think," the mystic smiled. "Majeel thinks it's revenge against you for Gagool's death. I never knew the woman personally, but I do know she wasted what talent she had serving that fool, King Twala. I am stronger, smarter, and more than willing to destroy whatever stands in my way."

"What is your true goal in all of this if it isn't for revenge?" Quatermain snapped. "And why punish innocent Britons who've done nothing to you."

"Oh it's revenge all right, and everyone one of those imperialist will pay for trying to enslave Africa!" Twazul shook his fist in anger. "I only need money, and my relative's killers was a natural starting point to collect from."

"We didn't kill her," Allan frowned. "She did herself in by trying to kill us."

"Let's not go into ancient history," the African witch doctor grinned. "As if I truly care."

"Just how did you expect to get away with stealing Allan's, Sir Henry's, and Captain Good's fortunes?" Skinner couldn't help but scoff. "Sure, you use the heirs to make the transition, but ain't someone going to get curious after you get three of them?"

"It won't matter. Once I get the money, I won't have to worry about anyone in Britain worrying about anything."

Horrified at the bold confession, Allan shook himself, knowing more than ever he had to end this now. Rushing at the mystic, the adventurer found himself frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"I'm too powerful," Twazul taunted. "You may have beat my mind control back at Sir Henry's castle, but my power increases over my prey when face to face."

"Ah hell...," Skinner groaned when the realization hit him that they had just done what the African mystic wanted....walked willingly into his control.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sawyer stirred when he heard the voice come over the walking talker. Was it Allan? Instantly popping up, the agent regretted the move, his head screaming at him in protest. His discomfort didn't matter as he picked up the portable transistor.

"Allan?" Tom cried into the device, his anxiety growing. "Can you hear me?"

"He can hear you quite well, little one, but he can't answer you back. I've forbidden it."

"Allan! Fight it!" Sawyer yelled into the walking talker, drawing the attention of the other League members. "Please! Fight it!"

Twazul watched in fury as the hunter began to stir, his eyes showing a spark of resistance. He had to do something about this boy.... Using up more of his mental power, the African was able to subdue Quatermain briefly.

"You will come to visit me," Twazul demanded through the apparatus. "At the Golden Arms in London...alone." His message delivered, he threw Nemo's invention to the ground and smashed it with a fire poker.

An awful crackling noise was heard on the other end, sending a cold dread racing down the young man's spine. Collecting his thoughts, Sawyer flew off the settee, and was stopped by Nemo's body blocking the doorway.

"What is it?"

"Allan...Skinner...they're in trouble!" Tom said as he pushed himself past the captain. "I have to find them!"

"We will come with you," Nemo offered, following his younger friend.

"Twazul said alone," Sawyer frowned, giving the other members a sad glance. "Don't worry, he can't hurt me." The hazel eyes took on a hard look as he thought about the evil Twazul had done and was still planning. He almost told his teammates of his plans, but stopped himself, recognizing they could be gleaned for information.

"You can't go alone, Tom," Mina protested, rising from her chair. "It's probably a trap."

"I have to. He can't do nothin' to me, but he can do plenty to Skinner and Allan." Assuring his unusual family that he would be fine, the blonde spy hurried out the door to Nemo's car, speeding towards London.


	7. chapter 7

**TenMara: **As always I am grateful for your input. The League looks out for Tom, even Dorian...LOL.

**Silent Bob 546: **ThanksTom can't miss out on any of the action! I agree, someone may have to make him rest.

**Samyo: **Tony's character got wasted because of some idiot yelling? That sucks. Beowolf...I remember reading that story in mythology.

**LotRseer 3350: **Thank you. You know me and my cliff hangers...LOL. Oh yeah, there's going to be one big major attempt at mind control. The rest of the League can't hurt Tom because of the protection spell, but they can definitely hurt anyone else!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 7

"We can't let him go there alone," Dorian demanded, "if that Twazul specifically asked for him to come, you know it's a trap."

"Is that concern for your own welfare talking or is it really for our young friend?" Nemo wondered, eyeing the immortal coldly.

"I personally don't give a damn what you think," Gray shot back. "We can argue about my motives all you want, but it still won't help Sawyer and the others."

"Or it could be a trap for us," Jekyll commented quietly. "Twazul has to know that we'll follow Tom."

Mina glanced between her fellow members, her heart telling her Henry was right, but her mind yelling at her to help Tom. "What do we do?"

"We go," Gray insisted. "The bastard wins if we stay here, and I don't like being bested by a nothing like this Twazul."

"I agree with Gray," Nemo added.

"We have to think this through!" Dr. Jekyll said passionately. "It's killing me inside to say this, for I want to help as much as the rest of you, but if our '_other_' sides are released and controlled by this madman...."

"He's right," Mina hated to admit, her eyes lowering in misery.

"Millions more will perish if we do nothing," the captain replied. "We all had dreams aboard the Nautilus about killing our young comrade, our deepest fears coming out without abandon. Were we actually meant to kill him? I don't honestly know, but we didn't, instead doing it in our dreams."

"We couldn't hurt Tom anyway," Henry pointed out. "We still harbored a horrible deed towards him, imaginary or not."

"But were we thinking of that in our dreams?" Dorian asked. "I could've sworn I killed Sawyer, but yet I was in bed the whole time."

"Every time I look at Tom, I feel such bitterness inside towards myself," the vampiress confessed. "I enjoyed draining the life from him...no feelings of guilt or remorse...only my need."

Jekyll's face flushed, not wanting to look at Mina, the reason he allowed Hyde to tear his young friend apart. "I did nothing to stop Hyde once the attack started."

"Yes, yes," Dorian sighed impatiently, "we all feel bad and what not, but our chipper little nuisance acts like nothing is wrong, why don't we?"

"It's not that simple!" Mina protested.

"Isn't it?" A dark brown brow rose. "Like Sawyer said, that wasn't '_us_' attacking him, it was our fear. A fear that is keeping us from helping him and stopping Twazul."

"Or maybe that was Twazul's real purpose for the dreams," Nemo realized. "To keep us from fighting him by being afraid of our own unique abilities. Using young Sawyer as our victim served to deepen our inner shame."

Gray nodded emphatically. "I think you're on to something Nemo. Why were we attacking only Sawyer? I thought it had to do with us stopping the whelp before he stopped Twazul, but Jekyll's right, we couldn't have hurt him. If the fiend could control our fear, he had to know of Majeel's spell."

"Exactly. We must all face our deepest fear and prevail." The captain held his hand out, looking to his fellow League members for confirmation. Slowly, the others placed their hand on top of his, signaling a unity they forged back in Mongolia.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quatermain desperately fought to move his restricted limbs, the thought of Sawyer walking into a trap diminishing Twazul's hold over him. After making the ominous message, the African mystic disappeared into an adjoining sitting room; a whispered voice hitting Allan's keen hearing. The bastard was planning something!

Beads of sweat glistened on the wrinkled forehead as the hunter struggled to free himself. He had to reach Thomas before the enemy unleashed whatever dark plan he was scheming now. The man was inviting the only person invulnerable to his power into his lair...and that could only mean one thing. After several minutes of hard exertion, the adventurer finally broke free, reaching over his left side to shake Skinner out of Twazul's hold as well.

Feeling the thief give his arm a squeeze in response, Quatermain raised a finger to his lips. They had to hurry and warn Sawyer. As quietly as they could, both men snuck towards the front door, with Twazul still occupied on the newfangled telephone. The hunter cursed his weakness as he half-sprinted to the elevator. He had already wasted precious minutes fighting the mystic's control, and now he could only hope it wasn't too late.

Twazul slammed down the phone, a sudden bolt of mental power hitting his mind. Steadying himself, the mystic frowned and hurried out to the main living area, finding his two pawns missing. They had broken the control freely? But how? Recalling the mental images he received off Skinner and Quatermain, Twazul deciphered that because they had given their lives to save the American, it gave them a stronger bond with the youth.

Anger began to boil deep inside the African native, but he quelled it, allowing a cruel smile to form. Quatermain and his invisible lackey had no idea what he had planned, and once that troublesome boy was secured, he would have the great white hunter back under control.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Almost skidding the car to a halt on the outskirts of London, Sawyer turned off the powerful engine, placing his throbbing head wearily on the steering wheel. Maybe Nemo was right...he wasn't in any condition to take Twazul on. Sighing heavily, Tom ran his hands through his blonde hair in frustration. It took all his concentration right now to stay upright, let alone follow through on his plan to rescue Allan and Skinner.

What could he do? This was obviously some sort of trap, yet he couldn't allow Twazul to hurt his friends. Allan might be safe because his signature was still needed on that legal document, but Skinner was a different matter. He had to risk it, if only to save the invisible thief. Filling himself with a steel resolve, Tom forced the increasing pain back in his mind for what seemed like the hundredth time, and reached down to flip the switch to ignite the engine.

No, this was the only road that would take him into London, and Twazul had to know that as well, having visited Sir Henry's estate. Sawyer started the vehicle, but promptly turned it into a heavily forested area. He would hide the car and arrive on foot. Thankfully he had gotten to know London rather well when he came here looking for Huck Finn's killer.

Satisfied the car was hidden well enough from an untrained eye, Sawyer steadied himself on the uneven ground, and began his perilous journey, hoping the walk would also help clear his mind up enough to come up with an alternate plan of action.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So we are we going now?" Skinner asked Quatermain as they ran from the hotel.

Motioning the invisible thief to follow him down a deserted alley, Allan stopped, catching his breath before continuing. "Twazul is planning an ambush outside London," he explained. "Seems he's had the house and the roads leading from it watched since our arrival."

"How did you find all that out?" Rodney was amazed. He knew Twazul called Sawyer on the walking talker, but when the mystic left the room, he could no longer hear all that was said over the telephone.

"I have very good hearing," the hunter replied.

"At your age?" Skinner blurted out inadvertently. He swallowed hard at the glare Allan gave him. "What's the plan?"

"I overheard a name..., Barlow, and he and his thugs were to ambush the boy before he gets to the hotel. They aren't under his control because I overheard Twazul offering them a big payoff if they capture and hold Sawyer until his business with me is finished."

"The inheritance." Rodney nodded in understanding.

"There's only one main road the lad can take, so we go in that direction and pray to find him or the kidnappers." Turning on his heel, Quatermain began to hurry down the alley.

Skinner began to follow, but then paused, something niggling at his brain. "Barlow? I have a cousin who works for a Barlow chap."

The information gave the adventurer a glimmer of hope. Odds were that they wouldn't reach Tom in time, but if they knew who was holding him, they could retrieve the boy and then go after Twazul full force. "Is your cousin in the same profession as you?"

"He was bit more into the '_enforcement_' side of things," Rodney recalled. "But they were a decent bunch."

"Decent?" Quatermain scoffed. "Kidnaping? Ransom? Sounds like a real dandy lot."

"Sawyer will be treated as nice as a captive can be," the invisible rogue inserted. "It ain't so easy for some to get money, you know, and if it's a big sum, well...it's a temptation a normal bloke might think on."

Grunting, the hunter waved his arm in a sign to move on. They didn't have the time to waste debating about the plight of the poor, and if any of them harmed that boy, he'd show them how uncharitable he could be!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I've found the auto!" Mina cried out to the others in alarm. It was like someone was trying to hide it, and did a very good job too. The driver was no where to be seen, but as she studied the immediate area, she could only see one set of footprints.

"This is not good," Nemo said sadly as he glanced at the empty car.

"How did the car get up here if it wasn't by Sawyer?" Gray deduced. "I highly doubt if any one else could drive it, and I don't see any signs of it being pushed here."

"Dorian's right," Mina responded, walking up to the men. "There's only a solitary set of footprints, and they're Tom's."

"But why is he going on foot?" Jekyll couldn't help but wonder as he came up to the group. "It'll take him longer to reach London, and with that head wound...."

"Then we best find our young friend as soon as possible," Nemo said quietly. "I fear an ambush is awaiting him, and maybe that is what he is thinking as well. My automobile would alert the enemy of his presence, thus making it easier to track him."

Dorian shook his head. "Sawyer's actually thinking something through? Maybe that head wound finally knocked some sense into him." Receiving angry glares from the others, the handsome immortal shrugged. "Oh! Did I say that aloud?"

"I think I can make out his trail," Mina informed her teammates. "We don't have much daylight left."

"Then we had better start immediately," Henry echoed the feelings of the others.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where does your cousin and this Barlow hide out?" Quatermain asked Skinner gruffly, wishing he had at least Matilda with him. Both his Webley revolver and Sawyer's Colt pistols were taken by the mystic back at Sir Henry's, and right now the hunter regretted his call to leave the rifles back on the Nautilus. He didn't want to frighten the household by arriving heavily armed, or give the enemy an obvious clue of who they might be. Pistols would be easier to hide.

Skinner placed a hand on the hunter's chest. "Easy now, Allan. I'll go scout around and try to see where things stand. They may not even have Sawyer yet, and if they do, I'm the only one who has a chance to reason with them."

Knowing the invisible thief was right, Quatermain sighed heavily and relented. The seasoned explorer nodded his approval and listened as his unseen compatriot's bare feet paddled on the cobblestoned street. This tactic made more sense, but it didn't ease the antsy feeling he had; he hated the sensation of helplessness.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

London...he had finally made it! Sawyer wiped a hand across his sweating brow and grinned in relief. A few times along the way he wasn't so sure he would make it, but his stubbornness and worry overcame any discomfort he experienced.

Pulling on his black duster, Tom continued through the streets of the enormous city, acting as nonchalant as he could so not to draw any untoward attention to himself. The hazel eyes darted around carefully, making sure nothing unexpected was heading his way as he headed towards the hotel.

Quatermain walked stealthily near the buildings lining the alley he was in. He could have sworn he saw someone fitting Sawyer's profile just seconds ago...or maybe it was all just wishful thinking on his part. His protege would undoubtedly come roaring into London in Nemo's car for maximum speed. Still, he had to make sure. People were out to capture the boy, and the slightest possibility had to be investigated.

A blur of movement caught the corner of the trained agent's eye, and Sawyer quickly ducked into a nearby alley to avoid being seen. At this point he didn't know who was a potential foe, so it would pay to be extra careful. His eyes narrowing, he heard the figure inch slowly towards his location. Whoever this man was, he was being awful cautious and sneaky.

Squeezing his eyes shut to fight off another bout of dizziness, Sawyer clenched his fists in preparation. If this was one of Twazul's lackeys, he wasn't going to be caught off guard again like he was with that fake reverend. He calmed his breathing as he waited for the mystery stranger to appear....

Something...someone was nearby, Allan was certain of it. Though his years of experience screamed at him not to, the hunter felt compelled to whisper one word into the still air.

"Thomas?"

Instantly the fists relaxed, a rush of relief flooding through the young American. Allan had escaped? Tom pushed the questions aside as he cautiously peered around a corner, and when he saw the familiar safari hat and leather coat his surrogate father wore, the spy bounded out of his hiding place.

He had seen the blonde mop of hair peek out before the young man fully shown himself, and Allan hurried forward, eager to whisk his protege to safety. A relieved grin formed, but quickly disappeared when he saw Sawyer stumble slightly as he jumped out from the corner of an alley.

Feeling like his head was ready to burst open, Tom inwardly chided himself for his rash movements. He was so happy to see Quatermain safe that he had forgotten about his limited mobility. Sawyer reached a hand to his head, willing the pain and disorientation to dissipate as he pushed himself towards his mentor. Seconds later, the agent felt Allan's hand grab his, the hunter wrapping his other arm around Tom's shoulders in support.

"Are you okay?" both men said in unison as they looked the other over. A small chuckled was shared as the enormity of what could have been was gratefully lifted from their shoulders for the time being. It was almost miraculous how they came to be in the same area at this moment.

"The headaches are getting worse, aren't they?" Allan commented, noticing the look of pain behind Tom's squinted eyes. "As soon as Skinner gets back, we are going to catch a cab-"

"Where is he?" Sawyer interrupted.

"He's off to find your hired kidnappers," Quatermain answered. "Seems he might be related to one of the bloody buggers."

"Think he'll be okay?" Sawyer asked worriedly.

"According to him, they're a decent bunch," the explorer replied with a dismissive snort, eliciting a small laugh from his adoptive son.

"How did you find all this out? Did Twazul tell you?" Tom pondered, leaning more against Allan's side. The anxiety filled walk into London was beginning to hit the American agent full force, and the added pressure of the headaches was only doubling the effect.

"Here, let's get back to where Skinner is to meet me. I'll see if there's an old crate or something you can use to rest on." When the young man didn't protest the suggestion, Quatermain frowned in concern. Sawyer's normal response would be to insist he was perfectly fine, and then chomp at the bit to go after the bad guys. Keeping his grip securely on his protege, the adventurer led Tom slowly back to where he and Skinner had split up.

The snail's pace drew a smirk from the American agent. "I'm not that bad off," he informed the League's leader. "We can actually '_walk_' without me fallin' into a heap."

"You're not exactly light as a feather, and I'm not as spry as I used to be," Allan shot back playfully, keeping his stern features on display. Within minutes there were at the destination, and Quatermain immediately went in search of something to for Sawyer to relax upon. Finding a battered, but sturdy old wine barrel, the seasoned explorer drug his prize back.

Sawyer sank gratefully on top of the barrel, leaning the right side of his throbbing head against the brick wall behind him. He managed a smile when he felt Quatermain's hand on his shoulder, the older man's eyes plainly showing the worry. "I just need to rest a bit," he assured his father figure as he closed his eyes to relieve the pressure.

Glancing down the alley where he had last seen Skinner, Allan stayed near Sawyer's side, prepared to leave immediately. A heavy unease was hitting his heightened senses, and the sooner the invisible rogue came back, the better. Turning his attention back to Tom, the hunter noticed his protege shivering slightly, and removing his coat, he wrapped it around the blonde spy.

"Huh?" Sawyer's eyes opened slightly as he felt himself being pulled away from the wall.

"It's a bit chilly out here...," Quatermain offered, gently pulling the coat lapels around the youth's chest and arms, allowing the rest of the coat to gather around the top of the barrel.

"What about you?" Tom asked sleepily. "I don't need two coats."

"I've been in Africa so long, I automatically bring it's heat with me," the adventurer winked. "You on the other hand, have an injury, not to mention pushing yourself beyond your limits. That will lead to a lapse in your body's ability to heal properly...."

Grinning a bit, the American agent closed his eyes and leaned back into the wall. "Thanks, Dr. Quatermain...," he interrupted.

"Translation...lecture over," Allan shot back, adapting the comment Sawyer had made to him earlier back at Sir Henry's.

"Now there's my smart father," Tom countered with a small chuckle. The hazel eyes flew open. Did he just openly call Allan his...? Fumbling for something to say, the young man fell silent in embarrassment. He had just bared his inner feelings in a stupid comeback. A calloused hand gently squeezed Sawyer's right shoulder, and when the young man finally dared to cast his eyes upward, he found a warm smile instead of disapproval. Quatermain's eyes showed an appreciation that caused a lump to form in Tom's throat.

"Thank you," Allan responded, fighting back the moisture threatening to make it's presence known. It had been too long since he heard the name '_father_', and hearing it come from Sawyer in that most inadvertent way melted anyway any reservations he may have harbored. He knew it was meant as a playful retort, but he also didn't miss the underlying significance. There were many other terms the boy could've used.

A click echoed nearby, destroying the father and son bonding moment. The two League members were now staring at five guns pointing at them. Allan wrapped an arm around Sawyer's shoulders, drawing the blonde agent closer, while shielding him with the rest of his body.

The leader of the group smiled, his yellowed, decayed teeth grinning in triumph. "You've given us quite the chase, laddie," the man addressed Tom. The black eyes then came to rest on the hunter. "And you must be the proud pappa, the great Allan Quatermain."

"Who the hell are you?" Quatermain demanded.

"Our employer wishes you to return to the hotel," the leader said with a shrug. "We'll just keep your darling lil' boy safe and sound with us till your business is finished."

A dangerous look overtook the adventurer's face. "Bloody hell you will," he growled with lethal intent. "You are coming nowhere near my son!"

"No....wait!" Sawyer intervened, sliding off the barrel. "Twazul isn't goin' to let any of us live through this. After he gets what he wants from my...father...he'll use the money to destroy England. Are you willin' to participate in the murder of innocent men, women, and children? That's if Twazul lets you live that long."

The five criminals stared at the bold young man, unsure what to do next. Was he only bluffing? Twazul had warned them not to listen to anything the captive had to say, explaining that he would say anything to keep his inheritance intact. Exchanging wary glances, the leader stepped closer, his gun raised higher.

"Now that's a fancy story there, laddie, but unless you want me to hurt your old man...you best come over here quietly," the man ordered.

"If you hurt him, how is he goin' to sign over everythin'?" Sawyer asked. "And if you harm me, Daddy won't do a thing your boss says."

Quatermain quickly hid his look of surprise. Daddy? Thomas was certainly playing his role to the cheeky hilt! "We're not about to do a thing you buggers say, so where does it all stand now?" the explorer added. If this indeed was the bunch of ruffians Skinner knew, they certainly weren't very adept at kidnaping...it was almost embarrassing!

"We have guns...," the leader inserted. This was not going as smoothly as he thought it would. Allan Quatermain was supposed to be this decrepit, washed up hero, and the son was a spoiled, pretty boy...easy pickings.

"So?" Tom eyed the leader with a teasing smile. "I'm still not goin'."

The leader of the group turned almost pleading eyes to Quatermain. "You there, old man...you ain't the least bit worried about what we might do to your kid? You don't want him getting shot over something like money?"

His dark brows raising in question, Allan looked down at his surrogate son, hugging Sawyer against him. "You're willing to take a bullet for your ol' father, ain't you, boy?"

The youthful spy shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I've been shot before, so this shouldn't be any different."

Quatermain grinned in recollection. "That's bloody right!"

"Are you drunk or something?" the gang leader questioned in a desperate tone. If they weren't drunk, they had to be crazy. Normally the waving of their guns would subdue any potential victim, so there had to be something seriously wrong with these two.

"No, they just know who's really holding the cards," a voice said.

The gang of would be abductors looked around in fear and surprise. Who had said that? No one was there! The youngest member of the gang began to smile.

"Skinner?" he called out. He watched with his other cohorts as a can was lifted from Quatermain's coat pocket and floated in mid-air. Seconds later a white face began to emerge, revealing the identity of the man.

"Nice to see you again too, Edgar," Skinner grinned at his first cousin.

"Rodney Skinner!" the leader laughed. "Bloody hell, man! I keep forgetting you're the ultimate thief now."

"Hello, Barlow," the invisible rogue greeted warmly. "Heard you were planning a pinch of the human sort." Rodney tilted his head towards his teammates. "If you're after the kid, I'd forget it. The last guy who nabbed him is dead."

Remembering his intended victim, Cedric Barlow jerked his gun in Sawyer's direction. "Someone's already tried?"

"He was plannin' to kill me all along, so I killed him before he could," Tom stated flatly.

A collective hush fell over the five criminals as they glanced over at the seemingly harmless-and injured- young man standing near Quatermain. He had killed his other abductor? Tom's estimation suddenly grew in the men's eyes.

"There wasn't a word mentioned about killing him," Barlow spoke up, withering under the harsh glare Allan was giving him. "We were just to hold the nipper, that's all. 'Sides, we ain't into that kind of business."

"Settle down, Allan," Skinner inserted calmly as Quatermain continued his threatening looks.

"You know them?" Edgar asked in bewilderment.

"They're mates of mine," Skinner replied, "and I wouldn't advise going against them either. Quatermain is a lot more than what the stories ever said."

Barlow lifted his gun up in the air as a gesture for a truce. This old man definitely wasn't washed up by any means! He looked ready to tear the whole gang apart with his bare hands, and it sounded as if the younger one was as tough as his father. The pay-off was a tidy sum of money, but it wasn't worth getting killed over....

"Listen, gov'nor...I ain't interested in making enemies...if you're friends with Skinner, that's good enough for us," Barlow offered.

"Hmph!" the hunter snorted in disgust, giving Sawyer a wink as he briefly turned his head in the youth's direction. "If I catch a bloody one of you even giving my boy a nasty look, I'm coming after you full force!"

A chorus of assorted vows filled the air as the guns were quickly lowered and the immediate threat removed. Sawyer hid his smile while dipping his head once in acknowledgment. Thankfully this was one situation diffused for the moment.

Would they be so lucky with the next one?


	8. chapter 8

**Many thanks to Ten Mara for her input! Hope to be seeing your newest installment of Rubicon soon!**

**tish: **Sorry for the delay. Writing time has been few and far lately.

**kingleby: **Thank you ever so much! I could see Tom calling him Daddy, and Allan's reaction to it...LOL.

**Doc M: **Thanks. Hope you find the rest of the story as interesting...wink.

**Lisel: **Thank you. I have to have some humor somewhere. LOL...yeah, I guess Skinner would have a hard time keeping a straight face, I know I would! And yes, I favor the term 'Dad' more than 'Father'. It's about time too he used that term.

**tonianne: **Thanks. How are things going on your end?

**LotRseer3350: **Thank you! Always great to hear from you.

**WingLiger496 and GenoSaw623: **Thankies! I'll try to update faster, but work has been taking up most of my extra time.

**Meraculas: **I thank you! I'll try to get more writing done...sooner...LOL.

**Nadia H :** Thanks. I love the father/son stuff too. Skinner's a useful kinda guy...just like Sawyer!

**Ten Mara: **Thank you. And thank you again for the help and comments. Dorian has to get his little swipes in...he's still the bad boy...hehehe.

**Silent Bob 546: **Yep, the father/son stuff is cute. I'm a sucker for that. Cheers for Skinner as well! I guess Dorian is getting used to the idea of being stuck with Sawyer for the time being, but you'll not hear him admit it too readily.

**Thank you to all who read. Please forgive me if I forgot anyone...didn't mean to!**

**777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777**

PART 8

"So what do we do now, Allan?" Skinner asked warily, glancing between his old friends and his new League ones. "Twazie's on the look-out for Tom all over the city."

"I can call off the rest of my men," Barlow offered, "but there's some other gangs working for Twazul as well. Even if you make a break for that house you're staying at, he's got men posing as drivers and anything else you can think of. That Twazul gent wants the boy-o awful bad."

Quatermain glanced over at Sawyer worriedly, noting the young agent's eyes were squinting in pain. The boy needed rest, but with London's underworld after them, where could they go without someone noticing?

"Do you have a hideout nearby we can use?" the hunter asked. "I'm willing to pay for it."

Skinner did a double-take. Allan wanted help from the men who were hired to kidnap Sawyer? Taking a quick look in Tom's direction, the invisible rogue knew why there was a change in heart. The American spy looked ready to collapse into a heap. Not that he could blame the kid. It had been a hellava couple of days.

The leader of the group was just as surprised by the request. "You're wanting our help? Even though we...?"

"I'll make it worth your while," Quatermain said with a grunt. "We don't have time to stand here and chit chat. Do you have anything or not?"

"Uh, sure, gov'nor. Only a few blocks down," Barlow replied. "You remember where it's at, don't you, Rodney?"

A small chuckle came from the pure white face. "Key still in the same spot?"

Nodding, the head gang member winked. "The extras are in the same place too."

"Weapons?" Sawyer asked eagerly, his eyes showing some animation.

"Uh, sure...," Barlow admitted with a raised brow. This kid sure seemed enthused about that possibility!

"Skinner, I want you to stay with the gang," Allan instructed his invisible teammate. "I want Barlow ,your cousin, and another one to come with us." Pointing at the two remaining gang members, the hunter motioned to them. "I want to trade coats and I want both your hats as well." Sawyer wasn't wearing his black hat, but the adventurer wanted to hide the blonde mop of hair as much as possible, even if it might mean some discomfort for the young man due to his head injury.

After receiving approval from their leader, the two men coughed up their apparel, inspecting the finer quality they got in return. The old codger definitely had money.

Tom tried on his '_trade_' and almost laughed. His hands totally disappeared under the longer sleeves and its length touched his shoes. "I think this is yours, Dad." He smiled in Allan's direction, holding the lip of his derby hat up to keep it from falling over his eyes.

The young spy couldn't help but grin calling the man he admired most in the world that name. He couldn't begin to tell Allan how many times he envied other kids doing things with their fathers as he watched wistfully from the sidelines while growing up. He loved Aunt Polly with all his being, but she wasn't the male role model he so desperately craved. Instead he turned to the stories he greedily inhaled like oxygen, one set of adventures capturing him more than the others. The great white hunter, Allan Quatermain was the man he identified the most with, and having met the man in person, he knew without a doubt his devotion was well placed.

With a small chuckle, Allan allowed a moment of levity as he took Tom's huge hat, and placed his way too small one gently upon Sawyer's injured head before he took the offered coat from the young American. He had to admit the clothing he had obtained was a tad snug for his liking, and the coat he swapped with Tom was still a roomy fit on the boy, but at least he wouldn't be stepping on it.

Skinner watched his teammates with a smile. About time those two started acting like what he and the others saw...a father and son. It had been brewing ever since Allan allowed the American agent into the League, but because of emotional baggage, it was kept in generality. Everyone knew, but no one said it aloud.

Quatermain glanced over at the former thief. "Skinner, I need to speak to you," he said, waving Rodney towards him. Once the rogue came over, Allan pulled his comrades away from Barlow and his group.

Eyeing Skinner and Sawyer with a renewed seriousness, the hunter explained his plan. Having exchanged clothing with some of the gang, hopefully people would assume he and Tom were part of Barlow's entourage, giving them cover and some time for the blonde agent to get some much needed rest. It would also send the rest of the League on a false lead. Allan suspected they would follow Tom, but since Twazul had entered their minds, and could still control them, he didn't want them leading the mystic straight to where Sawyer was...at least not yet.

"We should go after Twazul immediately," Tom began to insist, doing his best to hide his discomfort and fatigue. He wanted the mystic's threat over his second family stopped now.

Frowning down at his adoptive son, Allan shook his head forcefully. "No. I'm only allowing you to stay in London on the condition you get some proper rest."

"I know better than that," Sawyer muttered under his breath. The only reason he was not being sent straight back to Sir Henry's was because Twazul was on the hunt for him, pure and simple.

"That wasn't a smart aleck reply to your father was it?" Allan demanded, his brow furrowing in mock displeasure. "I can just as easily pay these men to hold you until the rest of us finish with Twazul."

His hazel eyes searching his mentor's face to see if the threat was truly real, the young agent sighed in defeat. Allan would do just that if he thought it was the safest route. So he'd be the obedient son for now. A son? The meaning of that word caused Sawyer to shiver a bit. Was he actually someone's son...not a nephew, brother, cousin, or friend?

"We best start on our ways," Allan muttered, fussing with Tom's borrowed coat when he saw the spy shiver. "This damp London weather could creep into your bones faster than the fog rolls in," he explained to his protege. Clasping a hold of Skinner's invisible shoulder, the hunter nodded once. "Take the others and go in the opposite direction for a few hours. Thomas and I will meet you at the park near Piccadilly Circus just inside the entrance after that time. Don't let the others know anything if they do find you."

"That won't be easy," Skinner frowned, imagining Mina threatening to tear him to shreds in frustration. "They'll be worried."

"Tell them the boy's with me," Allan replied confidently, "they don't need any other explanations."

The invisible rogue chuckled to himself. If Mina would be upset over the lack of information, Quatermain's arrogance would send the vampire off the edge. Yet, he couldn't imagine anyone else protecting the young agent as fiercely as the seasoned hunter. Sawyer was in the best hands, though his American teammate could more than handle his own...hurt or not.

Removing the remainder of his face paint, Rodney once more disappeared into the London night, his voice the only thing the rest of Barlow's gang could follow. Quatermain and Tom headed in the opposite direction, following the leader to the secret hideout.

The hunter hovered near the younger man, but avoided contact, not wanting to arouse suspicion. He worried Tom would stumble and maybe even fall, but when he saw the look of determination on the spy's face, his concerns eased.

When Barlow said he had a hideout, the gang leader wasn't exaggerating. The group of men took several sharp turns, and ducked in a few alleys before they finally reached a dilapidated building. Even the entrance was well hidden from view, something Quatermain found himself thankful for...but also made him wary.

Normally he would just go inside, then deal with the consequences of his actions later if the situation arose, but there was no way in hell he was going to let Sawyer walk into a potentially dangerous situation without assessing everything pro and con.

Noticing the scrutinizing look the old man was giving the immediate surroundings, Barlow figured he'd better do some elaborating before the famous hunter decided to do something he and his men would regret. He too had heard of the exploits of Britain's most celebrated native, and if Skinner said he was more than what those stories said...then he wouldn't take any chances.

"This is the only visible entry," Barlow said, "but there's several escape routes inside."

"Since we don't know them," Tom suddenly spoke up, "how about you hand over your weapons?" He too had been watchful, not fully trusting the gang. True, it was the saddest excuse of a kidnaping he had ever seen, but maybe they would get braver in their own territory.

"Hey now!" Barlow blustered. "I think we've been more than accommodating with you two!"

Quatermain and Sawyer exchanged a quick glance, one brow on each face raising with perfect unity. The younger man instantly turned left while the older turned right, deftly disarming the three men without much trouble.

"W-whah was all that for?" Skinner's cousin Edgar cried out, surprised and angry that he had been so readily handled by someone younger than him.

Sawyer gave a lopsided grin and shrugged. "Sorry, but you don't expect us to fully trust you, do you?" He waved his newly acquired pistol behind him. "I'll go in first, then Daddy. You guys can follow when we say you can, and then you'll show us the rest of your cache of weapons. Y'know, a good show of faith."

Barlow turned a pair of angry eyes towards Quatermain, but held his voice even. "Cheeky lil' nipper you got there," he muttered.

As if pondering the thug's words, Allan frowned in Sawyer's direction. "Yes he is. I think I might have to have a little chat with my boy about that." Turning hard eyes briefly back to Barlow, the hunter then followed after Tom who had just entered inside the building.

Before motioning to Barlow and his two gang members to follow them inside, Quatermain grabbed a hold of Sawyer's left shoulder, pulling him back. Placing his mouth near the spy's ear, Allan spoke in a low voice so no one else could hear.

"Call me Father, Dad, bloody hell...even Pa, but do not ever call me Daddy again, or I will box your ears till you scream in a pitch only a professional opera singer can reach naturally."

Staring straight ahead, Sawyer's eyes grew wider. "Really?"

"Really."

"So how is '_Dad_'?" the young American asked cautiously in a whisper.

"I'm just fine, thank you, son," the adventurer quipped, returning the grin Tom turned around to give him."Now go on, and find some sort of light in this bloody place. I'll keep an eye on your abductors."

'_Now who's being cheeky?' _Sawyer thought to himself as he slowly inched further into the long hallway. Feeling along the walls, the spy felt several doors as he continued on, wondering if there was a main room at the end of this passageway. Suddenly the walls ended, and Tom was grasping air.

"Be nice to know where a lamp was," the blonde agent muttered under his breath as he crept further inside. He turned and looked back through the passageway, seeing Allan's larger than life figure illuminated by the moonlight, still standing guard at the door way. So far so good. Taking a few more steps, Tom gasped in alarm as his ears picked up the faint sound of breathing seconds before the room became instantly brighter. Adjusting his eyes to the onslaught of light, he aimed his gun for the kill out of training and instinct.

"Must you be so over dramatic in everything?" a bored voice said from the beside the glaring lamps.

The gun lowered. "How?" It was the only word Sawyer could think of as he stared at the figure before him.

Dorian Gray smirked. "Twazul is like any other fool who thinks he can take over the world," the immortal replied with a shrug. "Just have to get inside their mind, that's all."

"I didn't believe him at first," Dr. Jekyll echoed from a corner of a room.

"Are you all here?" Tom asked.

"Yes," Mina said with a smile as she walked over from another section.

"We would not let you face this alone," Nemo said gravely, placing a hand upon the startled spy's shoulder.

Knowing what the others were risking to be there with him, the American spy gave them a shy smile, dipping his head once. "Thanks," he spoke softly.

"Finding you well is thanks enough for me," Nemo smiled back.

"Not getting yourself killed will suffice for me," Dorian growled towards Sawyer's direction. "Good thing we found you before you really did something ignorant."

Watching Tom's eyes narrow in irritation and probably pain, Mina quickly interceded. "Stop acting like that, Dorian. After all, it was you who stirred us into action by reminding us that we should stick by each other when one of us is in danger."

"I never said that!" Gray protested.

The half-vampire rolled her ice blue eyes. "It was implied."

"The hell it was," the aristocrat replied without the usual bite.

Allan's anxiety grew as he stood watch in the doorway, his thoughts straying to a thousand possible explanations as to why Tom hadn't signaled him and the others to come in yet. The majority were not pleasant, causing his worry to skyrocket. There was light coming from the center of the building, that was sure enough, but he didn't see the blonde mop of hair of his surrogate son.

Something wasn't right. Waving for the men behind him to come along, Quatermain hurried down the hallway as quietly as he could, just in case there was an unwelcome surprise awaiting him on the other end.

Half expecting to find Sawyer in a dire situation, the adventurer's mouth fell open as he looked around at the group of familiar faces. How did they get here? How could they know?

"Hey now!" Barlow sputtered in disbelief. "Where in hell did all they come from?"

"You must be the Barlow gang," the handsome immortal said with disdain. "When you wish to have a secret hideout...it does help to make sure it's kept secret."

"They're friends of ours," Tom explained to the shocked men, throwing a warning glance in the aristocrat's direction. They didn't need Gray's big mouth muddying the truce they had with the gang.

"You surely don't include me in that list," Gray hissed.

Sawyer smirked. "Don't worry, I wasn't includin' you."

Dorian sighed in relief. "Good, I was worried there for a minute."

"Mr. Grey figured it out," Nemo supplied. "He used some of his underworld contacts to find out if Twazul has been enlisting the help of any of the locals."

Twirling his sword cane between his fingers in obvious pride of his accomplishment, Dorian gave the League's leader a smug smile. "Surprised to find you here, I was expecting a hostage situation."

"Not hardly," Sawyer muttered under his breath.

"I overheard Twazul calling his contact, and turns out Skinner knows them," Allan boasted, "I broke free of the mind control and escaped, so I stopped any possible kidnaping."

"And you even managed to find the time to change your attire, and make new friends along the way" Gray said dryly, pointing to his teammates' new pieces of clothing. "Neither do a thing for you."

"They kept us inconspicuous," Sawyer defended his mentor's plan, seeing Allan silently fuming in the corner of his eye. All that planning was now shot to hell.

"Yes, and then you willingly followed the gang hired to kidnap you right to their secret hideout," the vain aristocrat scoffed. "I, on the other hand, figured out that Twazul would have planned an ambush, thus using my brain to find the most likely suspects and then find their den." The brown eyes turned on Quatermain with a cruel cockiness. "Senility finally taking hold, old man? How could you have allowed this almost unfortunate slip-up?"

Allan bristled at the accusation. "I knew exactly what I was doing! The lad was never in danger!"

Hearing the two men argue over his welfare made the young agent smile to himself. Guess his own role of staying out of the villain's clutches didn't mean much. "Should someone get Skinner?" Tom intervened, "since we did send him off in the other direction."

"I'll get him," Skinner's cousin, Edgar offered.

"Who are you?" Gray asked with a tinge of disgust.

"He's Skinner's cousin," Allan told the immortal, "and you're going with him."

"I am not."

"We'll need your amazing mental facilities to find Skinner and the others," Quatermain mocked. "My mind is somewhat hazy..."

Rising from his seat in indignation, Gray pointed in Sawyer's direction. "Go, and leave him with you? Obviously allowing another attempt at the little hellion's person? Do I need to remind you that my future is linked– "

"Now who's bein' a complete ignorant ass?" Tom said, throwing his hazel eyes towards Barlow and his two cronies who were soaking in the immortal's words. "You gonna tell 'em how often you pluck your eyebrows too?"

Dorian seethed as a smattering of laughter echoed from the gang. Granted, he knew the American made the remark to stop him from divulging his forced connection to Sawyer, but it still galled him that the perky whelp got one over on him.

Controlling his anger, Gray pulled on the lapel of his plum colored suit and conceded for the moment. "Fine. I'll travel with this miscreant." Strolling over to Sawyer, the immortal grumbled, "And try not to get yourself killed while I'm away."

"He'll be too busy resting," Quatermain growled back, his figure rising over Gray's smaller frame. How he wanted to beat the immortal into a bloody mess for screwing up his plans. He could only hope and pray none of the contacts his teammates talked to alerted Twazul. Tom couldn't go on much longer without some sleep.

"Ha," Dorian huffed as he began to leave the room, "even that won't keep him from getting into trouble."

"Bye, Dorian," Tom called out in parting, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Turning back to the group of people in the main room, the spy shrugged his shoulders. "What now?" he asked, doing his best to appear totally focused. "How 'bout we gather all the ammo this place has, check out the exits, then think up some sort of battle plan when we meet up with Twazul."

"We will," Allan agreed, "but you're going to get some sleep."

Giving a small grunt of irritation, Sawyer mirrored the determined look Quatermain was sending him. "We can't wait around for that!"

"_We _won't be waiting. You'll rest, and the rest of us will talk."

"If I'm sleepin', I won't know what's goin' on," Tom argued. "You can't have me backin' you all up if I don't know anythin'."

"Hm-m-m...that is true," the hunter pretended to ponder, "but it's also true that you won't be much of a help if you've fallen into an unconscious heap."

"That's not goin' to happen..."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, Tom," Jekyll disagreed, walking behind the younger man. Hearing an involuntary hiss of pain from Sawyer when he probed the area of the wound, the doctor shook his head. "You have done nothing to bring the swelling down, nor taken the proper rest needed. Ignoring the wound will only cause the pain to increase."

Allan placed a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Do it for me, son if you won't do it for yourself. The more you try to mask the pain, the more it takes from your ability to think and react."

"Twazul could harm you...the others," the agent spoke fervently. "I won't allow that to happen!"

"And you not at your best could endanger us as well." Quatermain briefly regretted his wording when he saw the anguished look Tom gave him, but the lad had to see the truth. This time the adventurer put both hands on the spy's shoulders, trying to soften the blow a bit. "I know I'll be too busy worrying about you, and I think it's safe to say the others will be as well. None of us will be in any condition to stop Twazul."

"And I'll be too busy worrin' 'bout you to sleep," Sawyer added quietly, lowering his head a little. He knew what Allan said was true, but he couldn't help how he felt. Majeel had placed the blessing upon him for a reason, and it wasn't to only protect him in an effort to ease their leader's worry.

"You can rest easy. We're not going anywhere." Quatermain had to grin a bit at the astonished look his surrogate son gave him. "What? Did you think we were going to leave you behind?"

"Well...yeah."

Motioning for Barlow to come over, the hunter pointed to several doors in the area. "Is one of these rooms fit enough for my son to rest in?"

The other League members exchanged glances. Did he just call Sawyer his son?

"We had one specially made for him," Barlow answered quickly, but then rethought his response. "Well...it is a bit drastic..." He eyed Tom hesitantly. "But it is the only room with a proper bed, gov'nor. Like I told you before, we were going to treat your boy proper, just remember that."

Scowling, Quatermain urged the American spy onward with a gentle shove to his back. "Let's have a look then."

As the door opened, the adventurer could barely contain his rage when he saw the so called bed. It was a good sized four poster bed, but a set of manacles were welded to the middle bars of the frame, a stark reminder of the room's true purpose; a prison. The captive would have a bit of movement, yet not be able to fully leave the confines of the bed.

Feeling Quatermain faintly squeezing the back of his shoulder, Tom glanced up at his mentor and gave a cocky grin. "I would have gotten out of them easy," he assured the older man in a whisper.

The comment easing his discomfort, Allan nodded. "Let's be rid of that coat and get you settled." He made a motion to remove the agent's coat, but Tom pulled away.

"I'm a big boy, Dad. I can get myself ready for bed." Sawyer frowned slightly, and peeked past the explorer toward's Barlow's direction. For crying out loud...not in front of the main thug!

Allan chuckled inside at his gaff. He had forgotten the universal rule about not appearing too paternal in front of peers, or in this case, a potential kidnapper. It felt damn good to be thought of that way again. A wicked idea formed as he struck a contrite pose; he'd get the last laugh for all that '_daddy_' business.

"Sorry, son. I guess all this business with Twazul has made me forget that you're quite lethal in your own right." His next words were heavy with imposed guilt. "Forgive your father for getting carried away with all that bothersome protection. All I can see is my boy needing me."

"Dad..." The American agent drug the word out slowly. That was a dirty shot! Quickly shedding the borrowed coat, Sawyer plopped down on the edge of the bed, refusing to look up at the smug look he knew Quatermain would be wearing.

"We'll handle things from here, Barlow," Allan addressed the gang leader in a dismissive manner.

"Uhm, sure, gov'nor," the man mumbled, shaking his head as he exited the room. Those two were a strange lot.

Once alone, Quatermain winked at the irritated agent. "I couldn't help myself," he confessed without any remorse.

Tom grinned. "So I noticed." Rifling through his various pockets, the blonde spy took out several knives and a pistol, placing them on the floor within reach. Bouncing on the mattress, he gave a low whistle. "This is pretty nice. Barlow wasn't lyin' 'bout treatin' me good."

"Then you'll get a proper rest. Now lie down." Seeing the blonde spy hesitating, the hunter sighed. "The sooner you sleep, the sooner we'll go after Twazul."

"You're bein' straight with me 'bout takin' me along?" The youngest League member inched himself further down on the mattress, refusing to place his head on the pillow just yet.

"I'll be honest, lad. There's two sides warring inside me on this." Allan grabbed hold of a blanket at the end of the bed frame, and offered it to Sawyer. "The father side of me doesn't want to place you in any risk, but the realist side knows you're an equal part of this team, and very capable of caring for yourself. I have to respect that."

Flipping the blanket over himself, Tom finally put his head upon the goose down pillows. The plushness of the mattress and the warmth of the woolen covering caused a small yawn to escape. "So I win either way, huh?" he commented sleepily.

"And don't you know it," the adventurer said in paternal affection, pulling the blanket up higher over the young man's shoulders. "I'll come wake you in a few hours."

Closing his eyes, Sawyer barely heard his mentor's footsteps leave the room, his much needed rest coming over him like a consuming wave. This time he wasn't going to fight the tide.

777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

A tugging motion pulled Sawyer from sleep, making his head wound scream in protest. Eyes still closed, the American agent didn't struggle when he felt his arms going upward. What was Allan doing? A simple shoulder shaking would have done the trick. Tom's mind drifted from the reasoning, his body wanting more rest to drown out the unmerciful throbbing of his skull.

A loud click echoed in the room, followed by a rapid succession of another. The sensation of cold metal against his wrists forced Sawyer's groggy facilities into clarity. No! Quatermain had said...

About to protest, the hazel eyes opened wide in horror as his words were cut off by a gag being tied around his mouth. An unfamiliar face loomed above him, a mocking leer on the thin lips while he waved the gun Sawyer had placed on the floor.

"Sorry about the rude awakening, pet," the man said with a haughty laugh. "Didn't spoil any sweet dreams did I?"

"_Yeah, buddy...laugh it up. Once I get free, I'm gonna wipe that smile off your face!" _Tom thought as he scowled up at his attacker. His thoughts strayed beyond the room, wondering what could have happened to allow this creep to sneak in. Where was Allan, and the others?

Sawyer's question became answered seconds later as he looked towards the open doorway of his make-shift prison. Twazul's tall figure almost took up the entire space, the dark features aglow in victory.

Strolling confidently to the bed, the mystic reached down and lifted his captive's chin upward, enjoying the anger flashing through the brilliantly colored eyes. "I must applaud you and your friends for your determination, despite the overwhelming odds of loss. And you have lost, little one."

Tom made a lunging motion at Twazul, but the African deftly sidestepped the restricted attempt. The smile was cold and cruel as the man looked down at his pawn. Now that this troublesome wild card was handled, he could finish his plans.

First, he would have a bit of fun with his newly acquired puppets.


	9. Chapter 9

Many many thanks to Ten Mara for her views and help as always. What a great gal!

**Samyo: **Thanks! Good to see Tony getting some great roles!

**kingleby: **Thank you! And you'll be finding out real soon...hehehe

**Silent Bob 546: **I thank you, and yes, Twazul's a butt, and Tom is cool. Which one will win?

**Spike-fan 1016: **Many thankies, and sorry it took so long to update.

**Shakai: **You're going to find out now...LOL. Sorry for the wait. And thank you for your words. Are there any updates in your story area?

**Ten Mara: **Can't begin to thank you enough! I loved that scene where Dorian plucks his eyebrows...had to bring that in there somewhere. Tom still feeling his ouchies makes for good stuff later, I always say...wink wink.

**Onward...HO!**

PART 9

Tugging furiously at the metal restraints that were keeping his hands from wrapping around Twazul's throat, Tom played his role as the angry and helpless captive, knowing he could easily free himself. He just had to bide his time and convince his guard that he was no threat.

Twazul seemed to be buying the act as well, grinning at the futile attempts for freedom. "I made sure these shackles would withstand the highest of pressure." Briefly scanning Sawyer's slender form, he nodded in his henchman's direction. "Frisk him to make sure he doesn't have any tools to work the locks free. I want no more interference from this one."

A mocking leer came over the crony's face as he reached out towards Tom's body. Avoiding the touch, the spy scooted himself as close to the side wall as he could, though the movement was causing his head to throb with pain. All the while he sent a warning glower the thug's way.

"Aw now, pet," the man cooed, making a snatch towards Sawyer's shirt. "Let's not be that way - after all, we're going to be spending a lot of time together."

Watching the dangerous look in the agent's eyes, Twazul stepped in, halting his hired hand from inching closer. "You will submit to the search, or I will inflict pain on the one who views you as a son," he addressed Sawyer.

Sawyer paused, glancing up at the mystic. Allan was still under his control? Hadn't his father figure said that Twazul couldn't affect him anymore? Clenching his eyes shut, the American ceased his struggles, knowing he had no choice at the moment. Twazul's powers had to be the only explanation of how the African was standing here at all, let alone so confident. To ensure the safety of Allan and the others, Tom would endure a bit of demeaning harassment.

"Make it quick," Twazul barked to his henchman, giving Tom a sneer. "Our poor hostage needs his rest, after all. I found out he received quite a nasty blow from my former employee back at the Sir Curtis household." Leaning in, the tall man placed his face near Sawyer's. "You remember the good Reverend Timothy? He escaped from an insane asylum about a year ago. Had a nasty desire to carve people up, yet possessed a spiritual side as well."

His body tensing at the thug's probing hands, Tom scowled up his gloating captor. That false clergyman was now burning in Hell, a destination he desperately wished to send Twazul. The cut on his wrist was also a vivid reminder of his captivity at the hands of the '_Reverend_', and it was beginning to bother him now. Even though the cut was accidental, he wished in hindsight he had asked Dr. Jekyll to tend to it. His injury was still wrapped protectively with an over-sized handkerchief, but it was doing little good against the constant pull of the manacles. Calming himself as much as he could in the present situation, the agent knew retribution would be coming soon.

"No one would suspect a man of the cloth would they?" Twazul taunted. The African mystic turned his gaze towards the room where the other League members sat consumed in their fears. "I think it's time to alert Mr. Quatermain to your true predicament. Though I may not be able to control his thoughts, I can still place strong delusions into his mind." Amused by the muffled snarl Sawyer gave from behind his gag, the cruel man continued. "Right now he's content playing solitaire, thinking you're sleeping soundly, and perfectly safe. Won't he be in for a truly nasty surprise? No one can stop me from what I want, and I want to make that point perfectly clear."

"I'm done, Sir," the thug announced, happy with his thorough search. He had found several lock picks, along with bullets, and smaller knives tucked in various parts of the agent's clothing. "Expecting trouble?"

"The follies of youth," Twazul muttered in disgust. "Always the optimist aren't we, little one? You would do better to serve yourself with reality, like the great white hunter will be facing very soon."

Allan placed a card on the table, pleased with how smoothly this round of solitaire was going. As he put down another card, a nagging thought kept bothering the famous explorer. Why in hell was he playing a card game? Wasn't he supposed to be watching out for something? Shrugging his broad shoulders, Quatermain went back to his game. What was there to watch over when everyone else was asleep?

Back inside the make-shift prison, Twazul reached out a hand, faintly touching the blonde locks of his captive in a show of victory. He knew Majeel had placed a spell of protection on the boy, but the mystic couldn't help but dance near the edges of allowance. It gave him an unexplainable thrill to know that despite the enchantment, he could still antagonize his foe. As long as the American wasn't _harmed_ by his hand, it was all right. Why the powerful witch doctor wasted such a potent spell on this young man was still a mystery, but it didn't matter. The spy was no match for him, and Majeel had used up his strongest magic, ensuring this would be the only threat posed.

A surge of urgency hit the hunter like a lightening strike, tearing him from his stupor as an overpowering feeling of danger took over every inch of his being. Allan then bolted from his chair, not even casting a glance towards his other League members, but instead racing towards the open door that held the only thing in the world that mattered to him anymore.

His son needed him!

Seconds after he had touched Sawyer, Twazul felt an unexplainable jolt in the regions of his mind, sending the mystic reeling backwards into his henchman. The two men tumbled onto the floor in disarray, giving Tom the needed time to discreetly pull a gold colored bobby pin from a thick lock of hair behind his right ear. Curling his fingers around it till he made a fist, Sawyer kept the tool for his freedom obscured from his enemies' sight while eyeing the crooked pair with curiosity. What had caused Twazul to suddenly loose his balance?

Quatermain burst into the room, and immediately shot the man beside Twazul dead. The hunter had recalled the fact that anyone under the mind control couldn't harm Sawyer, so this new henchman had to be here willingly. Aiming his gun at the evil mystic, the adventurer suddenly found himself unable to concentrate, an awful, screaming pain assaulting his brain. The pressure and agony increased without mercy, till Allan was on his knees, clutching his head with his left hand while the gun remained in his right.

"Drop the gun, Mr. Quatermain, or I will literally melt your mind!" Twazul demanded angrily as he pushed himself up from the floor. "I'd be more than willing to barter the lives in the Curtis household to make your heir obey if you stupidly chose to die."

Watching the scene before him in horror, Tom used the manacles to pull himself into a sitting position, then tugged the gag from his mouth. "Dad, do what he says," he pleaded in the direction of the hunter. Resting his pounding head against the cold metal of his restraints, the young spy prayed Allan would listen.

"Thomas...," Allan cried out between gritted teeth, the pain lessening when he focused on the American. Closing his eyes briefly, the old explorer threw the weapon across the room, instantly feeling the pain leave as soon as the deed was done. Able to think clearly, he hurried over to Sawyer's side, propping his adoptive son up against him while he threw a challenging glare Twazul's way.

Releasing the breath he had been holding, Tom wearily rested his body beside Quatermain as he allowed himself to relax temporarily. He couldn't help but think it odd that he was finding any sort of comfort in this dire situation, yet that was exactly the emotion he was feeling. Seeing the man he cared for as a father in such pain caused his insides to ache like they were about to implode, forcing him to side with Twazul. Now, as long as Dad...Allan...was with him, they would get through this somehow.

"You have won nothing!" Twazul snarled to Quatermain. "I still control the situation, and you will accompany me back to the hotel to sign the necessary papers before we go to the bank tomorrow."

"I'm not leaving the boy's side," the adventurer replied in a threatening tone.

A malicious smile lit upon the mystic's mouth. "Then the American will leave yours."

When the ominous words were spoken, Quatermain cried out in agony as the horrific pain returned to his head with more force than before, sending him crashing to the floor.

"Stop it!" Tom raged towards the tall African. "What the hell do you want?"

"N-no...lad...," Allan squeezed through his vocal chords, trying desperately to get the pain under control. Tom couldn't offer himself up!

"Even Majeel can't bring this old hunter back to life if his brain is liquified," Twazul informed his prisoner cruelly, enjoying the look of anguish that crossed over the handsome young man's features. "There is only one way to stop your precious father figure from dying a slow, terrible death."

Giving the adventurer one last glance before dropping his head, Sawyer let out a heavy breath of resignation. "What is it?" he asked with his eyes averted downward.

Mangled attempts at protest were heard in Allan's direction, but the blonde agent couldn't bring his head up to meet his mentor's face. This was going against everything he was taught as a spy about caving in to the demands of the enemy, and he was probably even forfeiting his own life by agreeing to anything Twazul wanted. All that mattered to him now was ending the adventurer's suffering.

"Thomas...no...he'll kill...you," Quatermain hissed, grasping the sides of his head as if trying to keep his brain from exploding outward. Every attempt he made at breaking free only increased the stabbing pain further, but he would endure anything to keep the boy safe.

Clucking his tongue and rolling his dark eyes, Twazul shook his head in disappointment. "Such over-dramatics, Mr. Quatermain. I give you my word that if you do exactly as I say, you will get him back...alive." Strolling casually to where his former associate lay dead, the mystic located the keys to the manacles, and dangled them in front of Sawyer.

"And as for you, little one, if you willingly place yourself under my control, I will not destroy the hunter or your friends."

"But what about the protection spell?" Sawyer asked warily. "You ain't allowed to do nothin' to me."

"If you agree to be my captive, some smaller '_details_' will be overridden." Twazul gave a feral smile. "Besides, your other friends will be arriving soon, and I would like to place you somewhere more secluded until Mr. Quatermain has fulfilled his end of the bargain."

Allan rose shakily from the floor as he pulled out a long blade from a hidden sheath in his right boot, preparing to throw it at Twazul's heart. But before the knife could leave his hand, another blinding pain seared through his mind, causing his right arm to fall limply to his side.

Infuriated by the foiled attack, Twazul grabbed Quatermain by the throat, and applied a crushing pressure. "Do you not realize the magnitude of mental power I am wielding right now?" Twazul thundered. "If you did manage to kill me, it would also kill yourself and your comrades. You have only experienced a small portion of my powers before, but now your brain frequencies are linked totally to mine, and only I can release or destroy you!"

Fighting for air, Quatermain dropped his knife to use the hand in his desperate bid to pry the mystic's strangling grip off him. If his mind wasn't so clouded with pain, the famous hunter knew he could have ended the struggle instantly by plunging the knife into Twazul's heart, but knowledge and actuality were not coinciding right now. He had barely been able to make his hands move upward, let alone build up enough thrust to drive the blade in.

"All right! I'll do it!" the blonde agent yelled out in concession. "I'll be your damn prisoner! Stop chokin' him!"

Twazul nodded and let Allan go. The hunter wheezed for air as he stumbled back a few steps before falling to the floor. Pleased with his prisoner's cooperation, the tall man then threw the keys at Sawyer. "Unlock the manacles and come immediately to me. No hesitating, no goodbyes, nothing, or I will cause worse pain that what you have seen Quatermain suffer so far."

Dipping his head once in acknowledgment, Tom quickly undid his restraints, pretending to run a hand through his hair so as to sneakily put back the hair pin for further use. He might've agreed to leave with Twazul as a prisoner, but he sure as hell wasn't staying one! Once free, the spy slid off the bed, and walked slowly over to his captor, who was removing a brilliant, red scarf from around his neck.

"Don't! Son...don't!" Allan cried out desperately, struggling to stand upright. He didn't trust the mystic's word as far as he could throw him. If he did see Sawyer again, it would only be moments before they were both done away with. Another thrust of excruciating pain assaulted him, but he pressed on. "Think of England...the innocents..."

Stopping inches from Twazul, Tom whirled around, thinking about what Quatermain had said. With a quick glance outside his open prison door, he could see the other League members and the Barlow gang sitting at a table in deep trances. A sick feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. Would he have to sacrifice his second family to save countless others?

"You agreed," Twazul growled, watching the warring emotions cross the American's face. This insufferable youth was not going to ruin everything! "You are mine!" Reaching out, the African grasped a hold of Tom's wrist, not paying attention to the cloth around it. His only concern was to secure his hostage as quickly as possible. As soon as his long fingers curled tightly around the injured area, the mystic's mind became like a raging inferno of pain and confusion, instantly ripping all thought and feeling from him till he fell into blackness. His eyes rolling upward, Twazul fell to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Feeling a hard pressure upon the sore cut, Sawyer winced in pain, but his discomfort was soon forgotten by a multitude of agonized cries hitting his ears at once. For a terrifying second, the howls of pain shot through the blonde agent like knives through his heart, and he realized it was coming from the others, as if he could experience every horrible fear his friends were having. The intense sensation almost drove Sawyer to his knees in torment, but as quickly as the ungodly din came, it suddenly vanished, an eerie silence taking its place.

Looking around him in confusion, Tom's hazel eyes fell upon the one person he felt the most for...Quatermain. In that brief glimpse into the hunter's mind, Sawyer saw what Allan had seen the day Harry died, feeling the suffocating agony of watching helplessly as the younger Quatermain was attacked viciously by a wounded tiger, and the numbing pain of holding the dying form of your only child.

Tears began to swell up in the American's eyes when he also felt Allan's equally strong fear of losing him as well. He saw Allan's struggle as he returned to life, experiencing the fear and guilt of allowing another to become close, but not able to deny the growing attachment at the same time. Scenes aboard the Nautilus over a year ago sprang to life as it rushed to America to bring its youngest member back into the fold, showing Allan's worry over his protege, but it was Quatermain's inner reaction to the inadvertent use of the term '_father_' that hit Tom the hardest. He could feel the paternalistic emotion as real as anything he had ever felt before, dispelling any doubts. In Quatermain's mind and heart, he wasn't a friend, a pupil, or teammate...he was a son.

"Dad?" Sawyer whispered, almost tripping over Twazul's prone body as he hurried over to Allan's unmoving figure on the floor. "Wake up," he begged, pushing upon the body mass to shake the hunter from his slumber. What was wrong? Wiping at his wet eyes, Tom's heart began to sink into despair as he turned Quatermain over on his back. The explorer's eyes were open and staring, but not in awareness, instead they were devoid of any spark of life, while his weathered face was transfixed into a frozen mask of horror. Allan couldn't be dead! This couldn't be happening!

'_Maybe Dr. Jekyll, or even Mina could help somehow,'_ Tom thought desperately as he ran towards the next room, past Twazul's body, whose eyes were also opened wide and lifeless. There had to be something someone could do! The brief glimmer of hope was dashed as he found everyone lying scattered across the floor, staring into nothingness.

"No...," Tom breathed out as he closed his eyes tightly to stop the tears threatening to spill unending. He had lost them too... In a grief driven shock, Sawyer walked back into his former prison, and dropped to his knees in front of Quatermain, pulling the explorer's limp torso up against his chest.

A single tear traced its way down the young man's cheek as he closed Allan's eyes with his hand. "Bein' with you and the League has meant so much...I can't even begin to thank you for takin' a chance on me," he spoke near the hunter's ear, reliving the fatherly affection he had felt in Quatermain's mind. Once again Allan Quatermain had given him a parting gift of encouragement, but this time Tom knew he truly was thought of as a son.

More tears began to flow, but Sawyer didn't try to hold them back, instead burying his head into the back of Allan's shoulder as he cried quietly. The emotional release was a mixture of heartbreak and gratitude to the man he cradled in his arms, and to his fallen friends. He was so absorbed in his grief, that Tom was unaware of a very alive presence in the room with him.

Twazul rose groggily from the floor, his mind reeling from the enormous blast of mental energy he received from his victims.Before he could consider all the possibilities of why they broke free, he saw the dejected form of his youthful nemesis in front of him, forcing the mystic to collect himself quickly. It had to be that boy's fault somehow!

Trying to establish mind contact with his former pawns, the mystic discovered he couldn't detect a single thought wave. How could this be? He glanced around dumbfounded at the carnage, a sensation he hadn't felt for years beginning to creep into his soul...fear. All his puppets were...dead? His link with Sir Henry's sons and Captain Good's son-in-law was somehow untethered as well. A hard reality hit the African native. There was no one for him to use against the American to keep him at bay.

Like a gazelle back in his native Africa, Twazul leapt up and sprinted for the door, wanting to put as much distance between himself and his former captive as he could. The foolish boy was too busy mourning his friends to mount much of an attack at the moment, and once outside on London's busy streets, the cruel mystic knew he could easily snag an innocent woman or child to make the American agent obey.

A dark blur in the corner of his eye tore Sawyer abruptly from his grief. Twazul? That son of a bitch was still alive? After easing Allan's torso down to the floor, Tom quickly rose and bolted out after the mystic, only stopping briefly to snatch up Quatermain's discarded knife.

It wasn't right! People he cared about were dead, and the man who caused it was still among the living? It wouldn't be for long, the American swore inwardly as he doggedly pursued Twazul out into the dark night. The once bright moon was now covered completely by clouds, but Sawyer didn't feel or smell the impending rain storm coming. All he could think about was obliterating the man who had just destroyed his world.

7777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

Glancing up at the clouds about to unleash their liquid content upon him, Dorian frowned in consternation as he walked down the streets of London's East End. _'Sure, make the immortal wander around in a storm,' _he thought mockingly of Quatermain's order of finding Skinner. _'He can't die from being soaked to the skin...so who gives a bloody damn?' _

"I do, you senile, old relic," Gray sounded out as if he was addressing the League's leader. "Why can't the great hunter go searching himself?" A vicious smirk lit upon the handsome man's face. "Oh, that's right, he's too busy licking his wounds after being shown up. Can't have his starry eyed whelp thinking he's less than the great hero of lore. What could I ever be thinking?"

Edgar stayed a few steps behind the immortal, wondering what kind of people his cousin had gotten himself involved with. They were certainly an odd assortment of personalities; a group that maybe Rodney could find acceptance with...but they were still too strange for his liking.

"Well now, you can even answer yourself," a cockney accent said out of nowhere as

Dorian and Edgar neared the park's entrance.

Dorian scowled, instantly knowing it was Rodney Skinner. "I fear I suffer from a lack of intelligent conversation from my fellow comrades," he shot back, "so am forced to supply it to myself." Glancing around the immediate area for the other stragglers that were supposed to be nearby, the immortal waved his arm in a forward motion. "Quatermain wants you and your unsavory friends to return. Let's be quick about it."

"How'd you find Allan and the kid anyway?" Skinner asked after making a whistling noise, inwardly grateful that he didn't have to explain to the other League members why they couldn't know Sawyer and Quatermain's whereabouts. Since Allan sent Dorian along with Edgar, then it was safe. Seconds later the remaining members of the Barlow gang surrounded the elegant immortal, their faces showing obvious displeasure at the snide attitude.

Gray showed little concern. "A secret hideout isn't what it used to be," he scoffed, tapping the sidewalk with his cane. "Shall we leave? I do not wish to be out in the elements when they decide to unleash themselves."

The other gang members laughed. "Afraid of getting wet?" one of them quipped.

With a sly smile, Dorian swung the upper portion of his cane up upon his right shoulder, eyeing the men with contempt. "I'm sure you find the appearance of drowned rats appealing since you wear it so well yourselves, but I fear I'm not up to your standards."

Skinner's voice broke the harsh glares his former pals were giving Gray, their attention now on the unseeable man. "Don't bother with him, mates. He lives on making people angry."

A loud peal of thunder in the distance announced the storm was close to breaking loose, but it was the sight of one League member inexplicably falling to the ground, and the sound of the invisible one's body hitting the sidewalk that alarmed the others.

Rushing to where he had last heard Skinner's voice, Edgar reached out to help his cousin up, but couldn't see him. "You all right, Rodney?" he called out instead.

"Don't know what happened...," the invisible rogue muttered in confusion.

"Sawyer!" Dorian growled as he rose from the sidewalk. "Something happened to him."

"Did you feel it too?" Skinner asked worriedly. "It was like I could feel Tom's pain."

"Yes," Dorian confessed, "I felt Sawyer too, but I also don't feel Twazul's presence in my mind anymore. The bastard must've done something."

"But he can't hurt Tom," the invisible man argued. "Maybe the kid finally killed him."

"I hope so," Dorian replied sincerely. "I can't see Twazul willingly giving up his hold upon us." Nothing more was spoken as the group of men hurried back to the hideout. There was a threatening feel to the air, and it wasn't because of the storm.

7777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

Big drops of rain began to pelt Tom in the face, but the spy pressed on fervently. A stupid thing like a rain shower or the constant throbbing in his head wasn't going to slow him down. As he ran on, the young American steeled himself for whatever tricks Twazul might try to pull. If an innocent was drawn into the evil man's clutches, would he be able to sacrifice another life? His gut tightened at the thought of what he had lost already, but Sawyer pushed back his grief. For the sake of humanity, he had to stop Twazul, no matter the guilt he might have to bear later.

Despite his head start and longer legs, Twazul found his lead dwindling. The infernal youth was still pursing him! Because of the growing storm, the mystic couldn't find a decent pawn, or any of his paid minions to use against the agent. Seeing a horse drawn carriage and its driver up ahead, the mystic decided to flee the area for now. He still had the Curtis and Good fortunes in his name, and that would be enough to get his ultimate plan started. Then he would fully utilize the hired hands he had stationed around London to take care of the cocky, American upstart once and for all.

Focusing his mental energy on the driver of the cab, Twazul ordered the man to bring the rig in his direction. The African smiled in triumph when the carriage began to move, but it soon became obvious that the driver had no intentions of coming towards him. A surge of panic gripped Twazul. His order was disobeyed? Again he reached out to the driver, but received no inkling of a mental contact.

What was wrong? Why couldn't he latch onto the thoughts of anyone? Absolute terror gripped the mystic as he tried vainly to contact anyone with his mind. It was as if he had lost his powers...

Tom saw the looks of horror and confusion overtaking Twazul's face as he neared. The African was definitely trying to use his powers, but it was plain to see that something wasn't right. Briefly patting the left side of his vest, the American agent made sure Quatermain's knife was still hidden inside an inner pocket ,and then drew closer, determined to find out why Allan and the others were killed before their murderer met the same fate.

Catching Sawyer's arrival in the corner of his eye, Twazul sent the young man a glare of absolute hate, his will to survive compensating for his lost mental powers. Now an average human being, Twazul no longer felt Majeel's spell of protection around the youth. A heartless smile formed. The boy was his to destroy.

The two adversaries stood face to face in the deserted street as the rain began to pour down harder upon them. Neither man flinched from their position for several seconds, instead focusing their energy on how they would demolish the other.

"**Why?" **Sawyer finally cried out, his warring emotions finding unison in that one word.

"I did nothing!" Twazul defended himself heatedly.

"**Nothin'**?" Tom bellowed, his anger overriding his grief. "**You killed them all, ya damn bastard!**"

"**You did it!" **the mystic threw back. "They broke contact with me because of you! They felt pain coming from **you**... That's what killed them!"

At first stunned by the mystic's accusation, Sawyer grappled with his supposed role in his second family's demise, but he recovered quickly, his stubbornness and sense of duty forcing the personal feelings aside. He was a member of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and it was his job to finish this threat once and for all!

With a slight grin encompassing his large mouth, Twazul took a few steps towards Sawyer, then suddenly whirled around and ran in the opposite direction. Cursing under his breath, the young American chased after the mystic, a chilled shudder leaving his soaked frame as the wind and rain began to pick up in intensity.

Running towards a neighborhood park, Twazul rushed inside, hoping to ambush his prey from behind the various trees and bushes the commons provided. It wasn't his native Africa, but it would serve his purposes.

As he neared the park's entrance, Sawyer slowed, touching the hilt of the knife inside his vest. He knew full well why Twazul had come here, but it wasn't going to work. The African wasn't dealing with some novice kid, and Tom was more than willing to prove that point. He would use any and all tactics he learned from the Secret Service and Quatermain to defeat Twazul.

Lightning started to fill the sky, and the thunder grew in volume to support the growing danger. Even the animals had long ago sought shelter, watching from their safe havens as the two legged strangers dared to test nature's fury.

Pushing his wet bangs from his eyes, Tom peered through the almost blinding curtain of rain, hoping to catch a glimpse of Twazul from the flashes of illumination the lightning provided. The unrelenting storm seemed to be chastising the young spy for forgetting to wear a coat and hat as Sawyer felt the cold dampness seep deeper into his bones.

'_Allan's gonna kill me if I catch my death of a cold,' _Sawyer thought to himself out of habit. The sarcastic comment caused his eyes to moisten instead. Would he ever hear his surrogate father's voice again? Twazul must've been dazed somehow by the League breaking free, but were his friends spared as well? Tom pushed any bit of hope aside. If the League had survived, they would've been right behind him, ready to fight.

From his vantage point, the mystic eyed his young victim, hatching a plan of attack. He knew from the glimpses into the League's minds that this boy was more than he seemed, and to underestimate him could prove to be a deadly mistake.

A bolt of lightning slashed through the sky and struck the ground inside the park, temporarily blinding both men who instinctively tried to scramble for cover as best they could while the earth shook beneath them. His foot slipping on the rain slick grass, Tom lost his balance and fell backwards against a tree trunk, the back of his head taking the brunt of the force.

Groaning in agony, Sawyer struggled to move as he tried to clear his vision. The pain from his head wound began to instantly increase, almost overwhelming the rest of the spy's senses, but he still fought for control. He couldn't let Twazul see him down!

Twazul laughed quietly to himself as the spots before his eyes diminished and he saw Tom. He could see his foe was battling to stand, and the sluggish movements told the mystic that Sawyer wasn't at his full potential. It was the perfect time to strike!

With the stealth of a black panther, the African native crept carefully over the wet ground, and was soon upon his prey, lunging forward with his right shoulder to viciously slam Tom's body into the tree trunk. A gasp of air was forced from the agent's lungs as Sawyer hung on desperately to awareness, while Twazul's taunting laughter mixed with the pain exploding inside his head.

'_He's...he's hurtin' me?' _Tom couldn't help but think as he tried to remain conscious. That meant Majeel's spell of protection was gone, and all bets were off.

His larger body pinning the smaller man's against the tree, Twazul grasped the sides of Sawyer's face in his over-sized hand and banged the blonde head once upon the tree to further incapacitate the young American. Pleased the boy would no longer be a threat in this condition, Twazul looked down at his victim in triumph, but held himself back from strangling the life from his former nemesis. He wanted Sawyer to suffer even more before death released the spy.

"Too bad you killed Quatermain," Twazul half-purred as he watched Tom slowly losing his grip on consciousness. "This makes what? The second time you've killed him? I recall a thought running through the old man's mind about what you did to him in Mongolia." Still keeping a firm grip on the American's face, he squeezed in on Tom's jaw, and gently shook the head to keep his victim from blacking out. "I would love to see his reaction now. Would he still think you were worthy of replacing his '_real_' son?" The mystic laughed. "As if you ever really could. That was his deepest fear... trusting you with the same love he had for Harry."

Closing his eyes briefly to stop the black dots dancing before his line of vision, Tom inched his hand towards his vest pocket, not wanting to alert Twazul to the knife. He planned to use whatever strength he had left to launch an attack once his fingers touched the blade's handle. As long as there was breath in his lungs, Tom Sawyer would never give up.

"Why would Quatermain be afraid of that?" Twazul continued to jeer, wanting to place doubt and fear into everything his quarry held dear before destroying him. "Maybe deep down the great white hunter knew it would be a mistake in the end, that you weren't truly in his '_league_' after all."

"The only mistake I see is you!" Tom shouted through the blustering wind.

Twazul wasn't finished, his face taking on a hellish bent as the storm raged around him. "And what about your friends? I know they told you about the horrible dreams they had. Dreams where they killed you."

Tom twisted slightly under the African's weight, pretending to pull away, but in reality bringing the knife closer to his reach. "You put those thoughts in their heads!" he accused.

"I only freed their minds to allow what they truly thought to come out. Did they find you to be the weakest of the group? Is that why they all killed you in their dreams? To be rid of the one who wasn't extraordinary? That's what it all comes down to, doesn't it? What good are you to the League?"

"Let...me...show you," Sawyer growled as his fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife. Willing his body to cooperate with him, the spy summoned every ounce of physical strength he had left to propel himself towards Twazul, sending them both sprawling on the muddy ground. Before the evil mystic could recover from the initial attack, Tom threw himself on top of Twazul, the knife in the spy's hand beginning its downward descent.

A silver flash caught Twazul's attention, but it was too late to stop the blade. Sawyer's adrenaline-fueled attack plunged the deadly object into the mystic's heart.

Within seconds the battle was over. One man was lying dead on the grass, while the victor managed to stumble and crawl away from the body before falling prone in a near state of unconsciousness, his last bit of energy spent.

"_It's over," _Tom thought as he rolled onto to his left side, and slipped closer to oblivion, no longer feeling the cold rain pounding upon his injured form, or hearing the deafening sounds of the thunder as the dangerous bolts of lightning hit the ground about the park.

777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

"**NOOOOO!**" Quatermain screamed in his mind as the crystal clear vision awoke him from the dark void he had been in. He could see Sawyer lying somewhere out in a storm without a coat and a hat, and possibly near death. For what seemed like the hundredth time, the hunter tried to make his frozen limbs move. It was almost identical to the characteristics his '_blessing_' gave him, making him appear dead, but in reality still alive. Yet this was different, it was like his body was waiting for something before it would respond...

"Bloody hell!" Skinner exclaimed in alarm as he, Dorian, and the other Barlow gang members entered the main room of the hideout. Bodies were littered everywhere on the floor, their faces transfixed in horror.

"Dear lord," Dorian breathed out as he took in the sight from behind the invisible thief. It looked like a massacre had taken place, minus the bloody aftermath. Without thought, he rushed to Mina's side, pulling her into his arms. Surely nothing could have destroyed her...

"M-m-m-m...," Mina murmured as she felt her mind returning from the darkness. It was odd, but hearing Rodney's and Dorian's voices somehow brought her back from the brink. She found herself smiling up at the obvious worry in the immortal's face. Her former love was more interested in someone other than himself?

"Hey! They're all stirring!" Skinner cried out in relief, hurrying over to help Captain Nemo to his feet. "Damn, thought you were all goners!"

"I was trapped in this horrible nightmare," Nemo admitted in confusion, "then I felt young Sawyer inside my mind..."

"We did too," the rogue informed Nemo. "Could feel Tom's pain, but I must've blacked out or something. Can't feel Twazul poking around in there anymore either."

Gray hissed under his breath at the mention of the young American's name. Where was Tom Sawyer? Dropping Mina unceremoniously from his embrace, Dorian rushed to the nearest open doorway, hoping to find the spy. Before he could enter, the aristocrat was nearly bowled over by Quatermain, who was clutching several blankets and a coat in his arms as he exited with a heightened state of purpose.

Before anyone in the room could fully regain their senses, the adventurer began barking out orders, sending two of Barlow's men on a hunt for blankets and towels, and Edgar on a mission to gather articles of clothing close to Sawyer's size. Tom's coat was handed over to Allan by the gang member who had '_borrowed_' it, causing a lump to form in the older man's throat that prevented him from speaking for a few moments.

"What is going on?" Dorian demanded, breaking the silence. "Don't tell me Sawyer's missing!"

Quatermain wrapped a hand around the immortal's throat and squeezed hard, shutting off Gray's oxygen flow. "Shut up," the hunter snarled, not turning his eyes from the others in the room. Releasing his grip on Dorian, the explorer looked at Barlow, his cool, tactful head returning. "I'll also need a covered trap to transport my boy once I find him. Do you have one nearby?"

"Yes," Barlow answered slowly, his mind still groggy from what had taken place. "Where you want me to take it, gov'nor?"

Allan frowned in consternation. "I don't bloody know," he admitted, "but I can feel it's close by, and it's some sort of park."

"There is one near here," Barlow informed the League leader. When the ruffian began to described the main opening to the park, Quatermain became animated.

"That's the one!" Allan cried out in urgency, reclaiming his leather coat from the gang member who had worn it. "Come on! My son's hurt, and I have to get to him!"

No one dared to question Quatermain's cognition, but instead hurried out after the hunter and Barlow to a nearby stables that housed two horses and a carriage. The gang members piled the items they were asked to retrieve into the rig, and stepped back, allowing Allan and Dr. Jekyll to climb inside to arrange it all. Skinner climbed in front of the carriage with Barlow after they had hitched the horses, while Dorian, Mina, and Nemo stayed in the building. Even though they wanted to see their youngest member, they also knew the space inside the carriage was limited, and it would be needed for Tom. Watching the rig speed off into the stormy night, they each prayed that Sawyer would be found quickly.

777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

Checking the chamber of his revolver to make sure it was still loaded, Allan girded himself for whatever he might find once he reached the park. His hunting knife was gone, giving the adventurer hope that Sawyer might've taken that along for defense, but the weapon wouldn't protect the boy from the biting weather, which only added to Quatermain's worries.

"Get everything ready when we stop," Allan told Jekyll as he buttoned up his coat, then placing his familiar hat upon his grey head. "I'll retrieve the boy, and bring him back."

Jumping out of the carriage before it completely stopped in front of the small park, Quatermain grabbed a lantern and ran inside, frantically looking around for Sawyer. He couldn't explain why, but he knew Tom needed him...and time was running out. Pushing back his paternal feelings, Allan transformed into the hunter of lore and investigated the immediate area for recent signs of entry, needing to view the situation more like a hunt than the heart wrenching search for a son.

The storm had died down in its fury, yet a steady rain still persisted, making it more difficult to see in the dark as the drops fell from his safari hat, but Allan Quatermain had tracked down dangerous beasts and men in worse weather than this, and in a matter of seconds he found crushed in the grass and mud a faint imprint of a shoe. When he recognized the shoe's tread, the adventurer felt his emotions battle to the forefront. The prints belonged to Twazul's expensive footwear. Quatermain had feared that Tom went after the mystic, but the vision of the young American lying on the ground injured forced any other thoughts from his mind.

Shaking his head vehemently, Allan went back to studying the ground. The fatherly concern would have to wait until after he had found the League's youngest. Another set of shoe prints appeared to the hunter's trained eyes, and those belonged to Tom. Picking out a discernable trail, Quatermain dimmed his lantern till only a small beam shone through, and followed Sawyer's steps, praying it would take him straight to the spy, but keeping a sharp eye out for Twazul. If the African mystic was still here, Quatermain didn't want to advertise his presence.

Soon Quatermain's questions and worries were realized in Tom's slack form. Dropping to his knees, the hunter put down the lantern and wrapped his arms around the young spy, pulling him close. Allan could feel the slight body shivering in his embrace, telling the explorer that at least Sawyer was still alive.

"I'm right here, son...I'm right here," Quatermain whispered near the younger man's ear, looking Sawyer over for any signs of a bloody wound.

Brushing back muddy strands of blonde hair that were plastered to the agent's face, Quatermain also tried to keep alert for any sign of Twazul. Then he saw the lantern rising in the corner of his eye, but the hunter wasn't alarmed. "Was wondering when you were going to make yourself known," the seasoned adventurer muttered to Skinner.

"Don't tell me, you knew all along," the invisible rogue answered back. "Tom's okay, isn't he?"

"He's cold to the touch," Quatermain spoke quietly, "but we'll remedy that as soon as we reach the carriage."

"See that Twazul bloke anywhere?" Skinner turned the lantern to the immediate area, his eyes scanning for any sort of trouble. As the stream of light moved out further, Allan noticed another prone figure lying nearby...Twazul. The hilt of a knife was sticking out from the mystic's chest, telling the explorer all he needed to know.

"The bloody bastard's dead," Skinner confirmed, checking for a pulse.

"We better get Thomas dried off and taken someplace warm," Allan said with a concerned glance towards Sawyer. Quatermain lifted Tom up off the ground, and cradled him awkwardly in his arms while Skinner led their steps with the lantern.

The minute they placed Tom inside the carriage, Dr. Jekyll hurried into action, grateful that Quatermain had the presence of mind to bring blankets, towels, and clothes. Who knew how long Sawyer had been out in the elements, and unconscious as well. Between the three of them, Tom was quickly and carefully stripped, dried and re-clothed, his softly quaking body then wrapped up in blankets.

"Where to now?" Barlow called back.

"Are you familiar with Sir Henry Curtis' home?" Allan asked, poking his head out of a door window, and speaking only loud enough for Barlow to hear properly. Though Twazul was dead, there was still a threat posed by the men he had hired around London to kidnap Tom, and they wouldn't know that their cash cow was gone.

"Right o', gov'nor. Hang on then!" With a loud whistle and a hard flick on the horses' reins, Barlow sent the carriage flying down the cobbled streets. He wasn't a doctor, but even he knew the boy wasn't in good shape.

"How bad is it, Jekyll?" the hunter asked quietly, hugging Tom against him after he had shed his wet coat and hat.

"He has another head wound," Henry admitted as he tried to gently probe the areas of Sawyer's head injuries in spite of the rig's constant rocking motion. "And we have to watch out for hypothermia too in his condition." The medical man shook his head. "I also saw some swelling and discoloration around his torso when we dried him off, but until I can look him over properly, all we can do is keep Tom warm and wait."

The pain jarring his body to awareness, Tom moaned and forced his eyes to open a bit. Blinking a couple of times to focus on the blurred face before him, the blonde agent could only say one word through his chattering teeth.

"Dad...?"

Keeping one arm enveloped around Tom's shoulders, Quatermain placed a hand on the side of the spy's face to let him feel solid flesh. His eyes filled with emotion as he allowed the father inside him to take over. "You haven't lost me, my boy, and I'm sure as hell not losing you."

Allan began to rub a thumb repeatedly over Tom's exposed cheek, just like he had done when he first reunited with the young spy over a year ago. The physical contact had helped bring Tom back from shock then, and Quatermain prayed it would comfort and help him again. "We've all got a lot more to experience together," the hunter said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice, "and I know you'd hate to miss out on a good adventure."

With a barely audible sigh, Sawyer's head slipped down further against the hunter's shoulder, his mind floating back into oblivion to escape from the screaming pain inside his skull. He was too tired and hurting too much to dwell on anything, but one thing he was certain of...whether he was alive or dead, his father was with him.


	10. Chapter 10

Yes all, it has been a while!

Many thanks upon thanks to Ten Mara for her input, wisdom, support, and everything else.

I also heap many thanks to all who have reviewed! You have been wonderful!

PART 10

The carriage hurried at break-neck speed towards the Curtis household. Inside, the three League members watched over their youngest with obvious worry. Tom hadn't stirred once since his brief moment of consciousness, and the nasty weather along with the poor condition of the buggy made the inside drafty, placing Sawyer at further risk.

'_I'm sorry, Thomas,'_ Quatermain thought miserably as he tried to gently wipe a smudge of dried mud from Sawyer's face which had been missed when they were toweling him down. _'I don't know any better way to protect you.' _Logic would have them rushing the American agent to a hospital or a doctor's home in London, but they couldn't chance any of Twazul's hired fleet of men finding the boy in this state of helplessness. Even this plan wasn't without danger, with thugs possibly waiting to ambush them along the road or at Sir Henry's.

Hugging his unresponsive protege against him, Allan turned his gaze to Skinner and Jekyll. "Once Jekyll and I bring the lad inside the house, Skinner, I want you and Barlow to get the others and then go tell Bond everything. He'll be able to handle the police about the bodies."

The invisible man nodded in agreement. Campion Bond was the head of British Intelligence, and the usual liaison for the League. If anyone could clear up the mess with Twazul and his two, dead henchmen, it would be him.

"We're almost at Sir Henry's," Quatermain said out loud, continuing to rub his thumb across the side of Sawyer's pale, cold face. The old adventurer couldn't help but think how the circumstances were now eerily similar to when they first brought Tom back into the League. He, Skinner, and Jekyll were inside Nemo's rebuilt car then, and Sawyer was in shock from blood loss. Allan could only pray that Tom would overcome the odds once again.

A loud snapping noise was heard by the occupants inside the coach, followed seconds later by the carriage weaving sharply to the right. Skinner tumbled unintentionally into Allan and Sawyer, almost causing the hunter to forcibly open the closed door with his body, while Jekyll held on for dear life from the opposite seat. The rig came to a complete halt, leaning heavily to one side.

"Everyone all right in there?" Barlow called out through the blustering wind and rain, jumping down from his perch.

"What in hell happened?" Allan demanded as the gang leader came past the carriage door to check the damage. As his keen senses went on high alert for a possible trap, the famed hunter pulled out his revolver in readiness, all the while worrying in the back of his mind that the harsh jolt may have caused another injury to Sawyer.

Dr. Jekyll wasted no time in checking over the young spy. After several minutes, he looked up and met Quatermain's questioning gaze, giving a faint smile of relief. Tom seemed to have weathered this incident without further harm.

While Sawyer was being looked over inside, Barlow was inspecting the carriage. "Back wheel," the gang leader surmised out loud, letting out a heavy sigh. "It looks to have busted clean off the axel. Sorry, gov'nor, but I can't go no further."

Sticking his head out to gauge their exact location, Quatermain saw the nearby lights of a familiar house. The seasoned explorer felt a quiver in his otherwise steely resolve as he recognized his own estate. He hadn't stepped foot in that house for years...on purpose. Could he do it now? Sir Henry's home was a couple of miles farther down the road, but as he looked down at Sawyer's slack features, Allan knew the boy had to be taken somewhere warm as soon as possible. There was no other choice.

Gently positioning Tom against their invisible teammate, Allan put his coat back on, and handed Skinner his hunting knife for protection. "Keep your eye out for any of Twazul's men. I'm going for my own carriage," he said as he placed his safari hat upon his head before opening the trap's door. "I'll bring it back here, and then we'll take Thomas to my home."

"Your home?" Henry asked in surprise.

"Yes," Allan said brusquely, not wanting to discuss his former abode any further.

"You should be staying here, Allan," Skinner began to protest. "What if Tom wakes up? I can fetch the carriage."

The hunter's heart ached at the thought of leaving, but Sawyer's health controlled his actions now. "No. My servants wouldn't know you, and we don't have time to explain everything to them. I can go in and take what I want." Stepping outside, Quatermain reached back in and gave Sawyer's cheek one last sweep of his thumb before departing. "I'll be back, son," he vowed.

Jekyll and Skinner sat in silence as they watched the carriage door shut firmly, their eyes then turning towards their youngest League member in commiseration. They knew Quatermain was right, but they also knew how hard it was for their leader to leave Tom's side when the American needed the older man's physical as well as emotional support.

"Where are you going?" Barlow asked as Quatermain came up to him.

Allan pressed his revolver into the petty criminal's hand. "Protect my boy," he demanded. "I don't think I need to waste my time elaborating on what will happen if you don't." The adventurer's dark eyes bore into Barlow's, bringing his words to a chilling clarity. "I won't be long."

Barlow cleared his throat nervously before answering. "I'll look after your kid, but what are you going to be doing?"

"Saving my son," Quatermain growled as he turned away.

For a few minutes Barlow watched the older man move quickly towards a nearby estate, wondering how things had turned so crazy. It all started out easily enough; grab some rich man's son and keep him locked up a couple of days for a huge pay off. Nothing else.

The gang leader shook his head slightly. He should have known things wouldn't have gone smoothly. They weren't kidnappers, instead just a group of common thieves and scoundrels trying to score a big financial gain. It was surprising that Quatermain hadn't laughed in their faces when the abduction attempt failed miserably. A cold shiver raced down Barlow's spine at the thought of the hunter. Even if he didn't receive any gratuity from the old man for helping out, he would be happy enough to be able to leave with his hide intact.

Wanting a brief reprieve from the rain, Barlow climbed inside the carriage, fully taking in the young spy's condition. "Damn, he looks a bit on the side of awful," he commented with a low whistle as he settled down beside Dr. Jekyll.

"Yes," Henry answered, eyeing the gun in Barlow's hand. Though Quatermain and Skinner seemed to trust him, the doctor hadn't forgotten that this man and his group of ruffians had been hired to kidnap Agent Sawyer in the first place. "Our friend needs to be taken somewhere warm to better his chances."

Barlow nodded in understanding. "Wonder if Quatermain knows the neighbors then; he was heading straight for the estate before the Curtis'. Even gave me his gun and told me to stand guard."

"You?" Dr. Jekyll rose from his seat and sat down in a deliberate manner beside Sawyer and Skinner. "What could be going through Allan's mind?" he said in a tone of exasperation.

Barlow stiffened, his bottom lip jutting out defiantly. "I told Quatermain I was on his side, and I keep my word when I give it. Besides, that Twazul bloke is running 'round -"

"Not anymore, mate," Rodney interrupted. "Ol' Tom took care of him once and for all."

"The laddie killed him? Injured and all?" the gang leader asked incredulously, his eyes growing large. "I figured the kid had snuck out, but I couldn't understand why he would do that with everyone after him." Scratching at his head underneath his bowler hat, Barlow eyed Sawyer in confusion. "Come to think of it, I don't remember much after Quatermain put his boy to bed."

The invisible man gave a soft snort. "Twazzie had that effect on people." Noting the inquiring look Barlow gave in his direction, the invisible rogue smiled to himself. "It's quite a tale, and some day soon I'll tell you all about it over a pint."

Skinner's offer appeased Barlow's curiosity for the moment, and he settled back into the faded seat of the carriage, muttering a curse about the foul weather as he pulled his coat closer to his cold frame. Glancing over at Sawyer, the gang leader felt a pang of guilt over his discomfort. Hell, if he was freezing, then young man in front of him surely was suffering worse.

Wanting to ease the tension he sensed from the dapperly dressed man who sat across from him, Barlow gently patted Tom's blanketed knee in a show of friendly concern. "Don't you worry none, lad. Your old man is going to find some help," he said in a positive tone. "Ain't nothing going to stop your father from getting you better."

To everyone's surprise, Sawyer's pale lips turned upwards into a soft smile, an almost contented sigh leaving his lungs before he succumbed back into unconsciousness.

77777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

The first thing Tom noticed was the warmth. Wherever he was, he wasn't freezing anymore. With his eyes still closed, the blonde spy tried to move, but quickly abandoned the thought as his body screamed out in protest.

'_That wasn't smart_,' Sawyer chided himself in his mind as the fight with Twazul came roaring back into his memory. The annoying headache he had nursed since Reverend Timothy's ambush now had company to cause him even more misery. It seemed like almost every inch of his body was sore or tender, and it was no wonder, from the beating he sustained from his now deceased foe, but at least nothing felt broken.

Slowly opening his eyes, the young spy found himself inside a bedroom that was almost as big as his modest home in America. His body had been propped up in the bed so that he was half sitting up, allowing him to view his surroundings better, and Tom did just that, his curiosity overriding any discomfort he felt.

At first he thought he was back at Sir Henry's, but this room had a different smell, a different feel all together. Sawyer also noticed the area had an American sensibility to the decor, the simpler style reminding the young agent of the furnishings from his boyhood. The sounds and smell of firewood caught Tom's attention, explaining the warm feeling that greeted his awakening. Though he couldn't see the details of it clearly, he could tell the fireplace was massive. His blurred sight then turned to the window across from his bed. It was a rectangular shaped window, long and narrow, taking up a good portion of the enormous wall.

Sawyer squinted hard to bring the view outside the window into clarity, his mind trying to reconcile what he saw with what he thought was actuality. The scene across from him was ingrained into his psyche and soul, but it couldn't possibly be...the Mississippi River didn't run through England! Damn, how hard had Twazul slammed his head into that tree? Seconds later the mystery was solved under intense studying as the '_window'_ turned out to be a cleverly framed painting to give the impression of reality.

This time the blurry vision overcoming his eyes was more emotional than the result of his injuries. There was only one person who would have done something this special for him. Inching his head sideways to take in the rest of the room, Tom saw the empty chair beside his bed, his optimistic nature allowing one last attempt at hope. When he recognized the familiar pair of reading glasses sitting atop of a book on a nearby side table, the American agent's heart leapt for joy. Allan must've survived Twazul's mind control. But where was the great hunter? Sawyer needed to see Quatermain, to hear the distinctive voice assure him everything was all right, and to feel the fatherly touch of the weathered hands.

The sound of a turning door knob caused the young man's stomach to flutter with anxious anticipation. This had to be Allan coming to check on him. There was so much he had to tell Quatermain, that Tom suddenly realized he didn't know where to start.

"Master Thomas!" a female voice called out, shattering Sawyer's expectations for a reunion with his father figure. "Thank the good Lord you're finally awake!" Seeing the confused frown overtaking the bedridden youth's face, the middle-aged woman smiled warmly and patted the blankets over Tom's left arm as she winked. "I know, you were hoping Master Allan would be here to greet you, but instead you get me, Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper. Don't fret a moment...he'll be rushing in here the minute he wakes up."

"Is he okay?" Tom managed to ask through his dry vocal chords.

"Of course he is, dear," Mrs. Jones replied in a soothing tone as she poured a glass of water from a nearby pitcher. "Dr. Jekyll slipped a sleeping draught into Master Allan's tea to make him sleep. Poor man wouldn't close his eyes once on his own, worrying on you he was."

Taking a few sips of the tepid water, Sawyer asked another question. "Are the others all right too? Mina, Captain Nemo, Skinner, Gray?"

Mrs. Jones eyed the young blonde curiously. "Are they all right? Master Thomas, you were the only one who was injured that I could see. Your friends are down in the parlor, waiting for you to get better."

"Ma'am, where am I? How long have I been here?"

"You're at your estate, Master Thomas." The housekeeper paused, and gave a comforting smile. "Master Allan had this room made especially for you, putting in everything American he could find so you'd feel a bit more at home here."

Tom turned his gaze back to the painting in wonderment. "When did he have time to do all this?"

"Well," the housekeeper said as she sat down primly on the edge of the mattress, "when he came barging through the door the night before, it was the first time he had stepped foot in this house in almost eleven years." Mrs. Jones patted the spot above her heart. "Gave everyone a fright! We had heard he was back in town, but never dreamed he would actually come here. Didn't even get a hello, just orders to prepare your room, hitch up a team of horses to one of his carriages, and to have a warm bath ready to pour."

"Eleven years? Was that when Harry died?" Tom asked solemnly.

Nodding, Mrs. Jones took a quick swipe under her one eye, hoping to hold back the tears that could easily escape at the mention of the younger Quatermain. "Master Harry's death was a horrible blow, and up until a year ago, the house had a certain air of melancholy to it, as if it were grieving itself, but things started to brighten when Master Allan had my husband and I oversee the changes to this room." Rising from her seated position, the housekeeper fussed with the blankets and pillows, making sure she didn't jostle the young spy enough to cause much discomfort. "I know I can never express the gratitude my husband and I feel for you bringing our employer back to his old self, Master Thomas."

"Please, call me Tom," the American agent insisted, blushing slightly.

"Would you prefer Master Tom instead?"

The comment drew a soft chuckle, which then forced Sawyer to grimace slightly in pain. Laughing as well as moving was not an option right now. "Beg your pardon, ma'am, I meant you can just call me Tom. Callin' me '_master_'...well, where I come from, it means somethin' different."

Mrs. Jones nodded in understanding. "Oh, that's right. You fought a Civil War back in the States over master and slaves. I'll work on something else, luv." The woman winked as she gave Tom a few more sips of water. "I'd best fetch Dr. Jekyll. He wanted to see you the minute you woke."

"Thank you, ma'am." Tom gave the lady a warm smile of gratitude.

Placing her hands on her hips in mock indignation, Mrs. Jones shook her head. "And none of this '_ma'am_' business anymore. My name is Mrs. Madeline Jones. Ma'am is for strangers or old ladies."

Sawyer couldn't help but chuckle again, but suppressed the groan of discomfort that almost slipped out. "How about Miz Maddie, then?"

"Miz Maddie?" The British housekeeper grinned in acceptance, reaching down to gently cup the spy's chin. "It sounds just fine, and how can I resist when it's said in that adorable accent?"

"Lay off the charm, Sawyer," Henry Jekyll said with a smirk from the open doorway.

Startled, Mrs. Jones stepped back from the bedside. "Oh! Dr. Jekyll, I was about to fetch you..."

"Has our patient been up long?" Jekyll asked as he took the seat beside the bed.

"He was up when I came, doctor," the housekeeper replied sheepishly. "Poor dear seemed a bit confused, so I explained where he was." Knowing the medical man would want to examine his young patient, Mrs. Jones made a polite exit, her body almost quivering in excitement over the recent events.

Seeing Allan Quatermain come barging back into the manor after such a long absence was a shock, but it also gave her hope. The household rarely heard from the hunter, and when Quatermain did send a note, the servants half expected it to be an announcement of his selling the estate. If it wasn't for the fact that Harry had loved it here, the land and the house would have been sold soon after the tragedy. Then one fateful day, Quatermain contacted Sir Henry to draw up papers to include a new heir to the property, instead of passing it on to charities. This heir would be legally granted the full rights that a son or daughter received. That fact told Mr. and Mrs. Jones everything; Master Allan had opened his heart to live and care again. Even though they never met the young man in question, but only heard about him through the Curtis and Good households, the couple instantly felt a strong sense of devotion towards him. Many had tried over the years to bring Quatermain out of his self-imposed emotional exile, but without any success. And now that she finally met this Thomas Sawyer, there was no doubt this American lad was truly extraordinary.

77777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

A soft tapping on his arm stirred Allan from his sleep. Instantly the explorer awoke, expecting to see Sawyer's face gazing up at him from his bed. To his dismay, Quatermain found he was the one lying on a mattress, and not in the room the young spy was in. About to bellow his displeasure, the hunter stopped cold when he heard someone speaking to him.

"Easy now, Father," the voice spoke calmly, tapping Quatermain's arm again.

"Harry?" Rubbing at his eyes with both fists, Allan expected the vision to disappear, but did a double-take when the human form of his dead son remained.

"The real one this time." Harry Quatermain winked playfully. "Your mind came up with a rather dreadful version of me earlier."

Lifting a hand up to touch the hand he felt upon his, Allan frowned in consternation when he could feel what was a hand, but yet he couldn't grasp flesh. "Are you really here?"

"In the physical sense, no. You can feel and hear me, but not in the normal human way of things–"

"I give a damn about Thomas, and I won't apologize for thinking of him as my son," Quatermain interrupted, thinking he was still feeling the effects of Twazul's mental tampering. It was time to put his fear to rest once and for all, and if it took arguing with an imaginary ghost to finally bring the point home, he'd do it. "I wasn't a great father, and I regret that more than anything, but I want to do things better this time with Sawyer. A man can love more than one son, you know."

"I know, Father," Harry replied. "I'm here to tell you it's okay." The deceased Quatermain chuckled at the look of absolute confusion in the hunter's face. "You only did what you thought was best at the time in raising me. I don't hold any grudges against you...only love and devotion. I was proud to be your son, and I want you to stop blaming yourself."

"Are you all right with my adopting Sawyer?" Allan asked hesitantly, still not sure what was going on. Was he hallucinating? Was he seeing Harry's ghost? Whatever this was all about, he wanted to make sure nothing was held back: from himself or his son's ghost.

Harry laughed heartily, the sound filling the room. "I think he's perfect. Just wish you hadn't taken so long to give me a brother, and don't worry, I'll help keep an eye on him."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Quatermain ran a hand over his features. "I don't deserve this forgiveness..."

"You don't deserve this guilt," Harry said forcefully, grabbing his father's face between his hands, an act the older man felt as real as his own flesh. "You've been blaming yourself wrongly for my death...a death that I caused myself."

"No! I should have done –"

"No, Father, I should have listened to you about taking proper care of my gun. I should have listened to you about staying in camp, and definitely not going anywhere near a wounded animal. It was my fault totally. I saw a magnificent animal suffering, and tried to help it like a stupid fool. When the tiger attacked, my gun backfired because I hadn't cleaned it like you told me to time and again. I was a grown man, and I take responsibility for my actions. You did everything you could do. I only wish that after it had happened I could have been able to talk louder so you would've heard me back then. I told you over and over not to blame yourself."

"What? All I remember is screaming...cries of pain..." Tears fell from Allan's eyes as he recalled the moment he held his dying son in his arms.

"That was you, Father" the younger Quatermain said sadly, laying his head against Allan's shoulder as he draped his right arm across the older man's chest in a comforting embrace. "That's why I'm really here today. It's time to finally let this go, so you can do right by this new son."

A shaky smile formed on the adventurer's mouth as he looked upon his beloved child. The embrace warmed every inch of his body, leaving Allan with no doubt that he was truly being visited by Harry. He wrapped an arm around his son's shoulder. "Why so long in giving me this message? Why couldn't you have spoken to me all these years past if this was really the truth?"

Rising, Harry placed a kiss on the top of Quatermain's head. "Because you wouldn't have listened," he spoke softly as he stepped back a few inches from the bed. "I have to go. I love you..." The human form of Harry Quatermain began to fade into the surroundings of the room, his smiling face lingering moments longer than the rest of his body.

"No, son, wait!" Allan called out to the disappearing figure, his arm reaching out in an effort to stop the departure. "I love you too...," he choked out, the room now empty except for himself.

77777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

"This medication will help ease the pain and pressure," Dr. Jekyll assured Tom after he helped the young spy drink all of the concoction. "It will also make you sleepy, so I don't want you to fight it."

"Who me?" Sawyer grinned slightly. "Thanks for whatever you did to fix me up," he added sincerely. "And for takin' care of Dad too. I heard you '_helped_' him get some sleep."

Henry smiled at Tom's continued use of the term 'Dad' for Allan. "A better way to thank me is to not get yourself into these '_situations_'. Luckily you've come away from this experience without anything broken, ruptured, or cracked. I don't foresee any permanent damage either, just some headaches and soreness for a few days, but there's still the chance of lung congestion, or a fever developing from your exposure to the elements." Hearing footsteps hurrying towards Sawyer's bedroom, the doctor looked behind him in trepidation. Quatermain was up. "I think Allan might be heading this way."

Inwardly, Hyde cackled in glee. _" I can smell him, sure enough. The old fool is going to smash your mouth in, Henry," _the monster goaded. The doctor then mentally reminded his split personality about his own convincing role to put the sleeping powder in the hunter's drink. They were both equally to blame if Quaterman was more than a little upset over being separated from Tom.

Henry rose from the seat to hopefully head off a possible scene occurring before the patient. "I'll let Allan speak to you for a little bit, Tom," the doctor said with a wink, "but I don't want you to overdo it. Promise?"

"I'll behave," Sawyer vowed, holding back his excitement to see his father figure.

The medical man left Tom's room, almost colliding with Qutermain out in the hall. Angry eyes challenged Jekyll for a moment, but the doctor had an ace up his sleeve.

"Tom's up, and is anxious to see you, but I had to give him some strong medicine for the pain, so he won't be awake long." Smiling to himself when Allan hurried past him, Henry nodded in satisfaction as he ambled down the hallway. Yes, that bit of information did the trick.

The door opened quietly, and Allan peeked through the doorway, his eyes immediately going to the bed. Seeing that the American was still awake, the seasoned explorer rushed into the room, gently taking Sawyer's face between his large hands.

"I have so much to tell you...," both men said at once. A brief moment of silence ensued as father and son looked fondly at each other, relieved their ordeal was finally over.

Despite the soreness, Tom pulled his arms out from under the comforter, and wrapped his fingers around Allan's wrists, his eyes moistening. "I can about guess what you want to tell me," he spoke quickly, hoping to state everything he longed to say before the medicine kicked into full strength. "When Twazul grabbed me back at the hideout, somehow I felt everythin' you had been experiencin' 'bout me ever since you let me in the League. All the doubts and fears 'bout carin'– "

"I could feel you inside my mind too," Quatermain interrupted, with a tinge of shame in his voice. He dropped his hold on Tom's face, and instead grabbed one of the spy's hands as he sat down in the chair Jekyll recently vacated. "I was a stupid, old fool to be afraid..."

Sawyer squeezed Allan's hand. "No, you were only afraid '_for_' me, and that's what fathers do best. I've had some folks over the years try to fill that void for me, but it wasn't 'till I met you that I had any real notion of what havin' a dad would feel like. You're the only father I've ever really known."

The words caused the hunter a moment of quiet contemplation. "I can't remember feeling this strongly about anyone since Harry," Quatermain admitted. "Bloody hell, I've even had young men over the years claiming to be my son from a tryst, but none of them drew the least little spark of interest from me. It took my friends to find out they were frauds. I didn't give a damn."

His voice growing thick with emotion, Allan continued. "Even when M recruited me, I was only doing it to help keep Africa out of a war. Though I was saddened by the loss of some of my old friends, my heart wasn't totally into the mission. I was just going through the motions until I saw that confident wink from a young man back at Gray's, who was either a crazy fool, or a brave one. At that moment I knew if this boy was sticking his neck out for me, I _should _give a damn." The adventurer smirked as he patted the top of Tom's hand. "Besides, anyone that bloody mad to face down a bunch of armor-plated assassins possibly by himself should be looked after."

Stifling a yawn, Sawyer smiled up at the older man. "I was so thrilled that the great Allan Quatermain was lettin' me tag along," the spy confessed. "I was doin' my best to impress you."

Allan chuckled in recollection. "Sometimes it was painfully obvious."

Tom's face turned more earnest. "When we were chasin' down Mr. Hyde in Paris, you said somethin' to me after pullin' me to safety that changed how I looked at you. Before that, you were an idol, somethin' I strived to be, but when you said you couldn't protect me all the time...well, instead of feelin' insulted, or even stupid...I felt like you actually cared 'bout what happened to me."

"All I could think about was how close you came to having your head bashed in by that falling statue," the explorer replied, "and there you were, thanking me with that cocky grin, like it was an adventure rush. I wanted you to see how serious it all was, but ended up blurting out that little comment that was a bit too personal."

"I'm glad you did." A sleepy yawn finally escaped, and Tom fought to remain alert. His pain was blissfully beginning to diminish, but he knew he couldn't fight the medicine much longer. "You said you had somethin' to say too?" he offered quietly.

Giving the young American a warm smile, Allan placed a hand gingerly on the top of Sawyer's head. "I'm sure you know by now about being my heir..." The old adventurer paused, and cleared his throat nervously, unused to wearing his emotions so readily on his sleeve, but he mentally swallowed his uncomfortableness, not wanting to let another opportunity pass. "I have in the language that you are to have the same access as a son or daughter, but would you be willing to _'legally'_ become my son?"

Sawyer's hazel eyes grew big, despite the sleep battling to claim them. "You mean you want to adopt me?"

"Well...yes in a way," Quatermain tried to explain, leaning in closer to Sawyer. "I'm not talking about changing your last name...I understand it's who you are, and you're an adult now, but I don't want any questions raised...ever...about your legitimacy to everything I own." Allan softly tousled the right side of Tom's hair. "Dammit, you're my son in my heart, and I want the bloody crown to know it by law."

Sawyer looked the hunter straight in the eyes before answering. "All I know how to be is Tom Sawyer, and as far as your money...just knowin' you think of me as your own means more'n anythin' King Solomon ever had." The blonde agent smiled shyly. "But I can't pass up the opportunity to let the '_bloody crown know_'."

Quatermain erupted into a broad grin. "Then it's settled. As soon as you're able, we'll go see my lawyer, and draw up the necessary papers."

"All I can think of to say is thank you," Tom half-mumbled as his eyelids began to heavily drop.

"I'm grateful for you too, son," Allan admitted, "but I think we're well beyond those general sentiments. We should focus our energy on where we are now." Noticing that Tom was losing his struggle with awareness, Quatermain released his hold of the young man, and re-covered the exposed arms. "Let's start by focusing on getting you better, hmm?"

Barely nodding, Sawyer let his eyes close, one thought keeping him from completely surrendering to the needed rest. "Dad," he spoke softly, his eyes still shut, "I also saw Harry...the day he died. He didn't blame you, he blamed himself...it was never your fau--" The comment trailed off as the medicine finally won over the American's willpower.

Allan bolted upright in his chair from surprise. The same message from two different sources? Had Tom heard the comments which Harry's ghost had made? Looking down at the slumbering youth, the explorer began to slowly stroke a hand over the slightly curly, blonde locks of his new son, deciding that curiosity could wait. There would be time for talk later.

Right now he would just concentrate on the blessing that was before him. Quatermain grinned. He finally admitted what his heart had known for quite a while; he was a father again. Whatever forces had brought Sawyer and him together, he wouldn't question it anymore, but instead embrace it with a heart full of gratitude.

He wasn't going to squander this chance.

_One more chapter left. This end scene is similar to Ten Mara's scene in "Rubicon 2", but we both knew we were writing 'adoption' scenes, she just beat me to it! LOL._


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello All! Sorry for the long wait.**

**A heaping big Thank You to Ten Mara! You rock!**

**Shout outs to Amberjunk, Lisel, and Xanthia for their extra encouragement to get going on this!**

**As always I thank the reviewers! **

**Warning: I know I said this was going to be the last chapter, BUT, I still have one more to go...**

**Chapter 11**

Quatermain stood impatiently outside the bathroom door that was adjacent to Tom's bedroom, battling his urge to bust down the door. He knew the boy needed to move around more than the limited walking excursions about the bedchamber, but had he allowed Sawyer too much freedom too soon? The elderly adventurer knew from his own experiences that you just couldn't jump out of bed easily after a beating like Tom had suffered.

It was too quiet...

What if the lad had fallen? Maybe Tom was unconscious, unable to call for help...

Should he barge in? Just to make sure?

Allan shook his head forcibly. No. He was overreacting. The young man behind the door was a well-trained and deadly force who faced many dangers head-on. Tom didn't need an anxious parent sucking out any self accomplishment he would achieve by doing this mundane task of getting ready by himself. Letting out a sarcastic huff, the explorer smirked a little. If it had been him, he would have been trying to move around on his own after the first night...consequences be damned.

Wait a minute... Since he and Sawyer were so much alike, then surely the temptation to sneak out of bed had crossed through the lad's mind as well..., and most likely been acted upon.

Quatermain frowned. Dammit. There had been a few minutes here and there where Sawyer had been left alone. Various scenarios of potential injuries Tom could have sustained ran through Allan's head. The frown deepened on the weathered features. If Tom had disobeyed Dr. Jekyll's orders, and more importantly, _his own, _about staying in bed...

A small cough from Tom on the other side of the door eased Quatermain's earlier worry. The boy hadn't harmed himself, yet the soft moan after the cough told Allan his son was still feeling discomfort. Despite his exposure to the storm, the worst Sawyer received from it was a bad cold, but it caused difficulty in the healing of the young agent's battered torso. Every cough or sneeze would send agonizing spasms through the lean frame, keeping Tom from completely resting.

Minutes later Tom emerged, fully dressed and groomed with a look of satisfaction upon his winsome features. "That bathroom's nearly bigger than my old livin' room and kitchen put together," the American spy said in awe. "Did it used to be another bedroom before you changed it around?"

"No, it actually was a lounge area that was attached to your bedroom," Allan answered, giving Sawyer a discreet once over with his eyes to see if his son was truly all right. "I couldn't imagine you sitting still long enough to enjoy a room like that, so I figured a full scale, modern bathroom would be more appropriate."

The blonde agent was amazed. "When did you decide to do all this? To make me your heir?"

Quatermain paused, recalling the day clearly in his head. "It was when I went to see the Queen about making sure you were coming back into the League," the explorer said with a slight smile. "I had a bit of time on my hands while I waited, and my lawyer's office was close by."

"You went to the Queen herself? About me?" Tom folded his arms gingerly across his chest with a bemused look on his face. "Why would she care 'bout me bein' in the League?"

"Because I cared," the hunter corrected. "When I heard about agents missing...I was beside myself with worry, and I knew the American government wouldn't refuse the Queen of England if she asked specifically for you."

Grinning shyly, Sawyer briefly broke eye contact. "I got a good sense of that with the mental contact we shared several days back." The hazel eyes twinkled with mischief as he glanced back at Allan. "Damn, you're one grouchy mother hen! Surprised Cap'n Nemo and the others didn't throw you overboard on the way to America."

Allan groaned a little. "My decorum was nowhere near that of a gentleman, but I couldn't bloody help myself. The fact I couldn't help you was driving me insane."

"You and the others arrived just in time," Tom said with a warm smile. "Even Dorian managed to help, despite himself."

"Speaking of that aristocratic pain in the arse, we had better get downstairs before we hear him complaining about how we kept him from his breakfast." Clasping Sawyer's left arm, the hunter gently nudged the younger man towards the bedroom door, keeping his keen eyes watchful for any sign of discomfort from Tom.

At first the American was going to politely refuse the extra assistance, but Tom kept silent, acknowledging Quatermain's paternal desire to be helping in some way. Sucking in a shaky breath, he slowly made his way to the door, and out to the massive hallway. When they reached the edge of the stairway, the spy hesitated, suddenly unsure if his battered body could withstand the descent to the lower floor.

His eyes growing larger as he peered down the staircase, Sawyer tried to gauge how much of the pain he could take. There sure was a lot of stairs...

"I have a lift ready for such an occasion," Allan spoke up. "It'll be much easier on you, and safer."

"What?" A vision of being carried bodily down the stairs suddenly hit Sawyer's mind. No...he couldn't mean that...

The hunter's brow furrowed in concentration. What did they call those things in America? Unable to remember, Quatermain pointed to an ornately decorated, wrought iron door behind them. "I had one of these built."

Tom visibly relaxed. "Oh, you meant an elevator."

As Allan walked over to open the elevator's door, his right eyebrow rose. "Were you thinking of something different?" he asked, turning back to look at Sawyer.

"Was this elevator somethin' else you thought I'd need?" Sawyer smirked as he walked steadily towards the mechanical marvel.

The adventurer shrugged. "Actually I was thinking of myself."

"Tired ol' body can't handle all them steps anymore?"

"No, I was thinking of this _old_ body having to carry _you_ up those stairs," Quatermain shot back, giving his son a chiding look as Tom entered the elevator. A loud bellow rang through the upper floor, causing both men to look up in alarm. Was someone hurt?

"Stay here," Allan spoke hurriedly to Tom, while shutting the wrought iron door between them to keep the spy safely inside.

"Sounded like Dorian," Sawyer said, his eyes going towards the bedroom the immortal slept in. Before Quatermain could move down the hall to investigate, the man in question emerged, the fury obvious in Gray's demeanor.

"Bloody hell," Allan whispered, not sure whether to laugh or cover his eyes to protect them from the sight. Gray's normally coiffed hair was now sticking straight out from his head in several spots, the dark brown locks held in place by gold colored hair pins.

"**WHO DID THIS**?" Gray demanded as he stormed to the edge of the staircase. "**Skinner? So help me...if you are the sinister demon who committed this horrendous act on my person...!**"

"Gray, calm down," the hunter managed to say without laughing. "Just pull the bloody pins out..."

"Pull them out?" Dorian turned his fury towards the League's leader. "Do you have any idea whatsoever of what that might do to my hair? Unlike you, I do take the time for proper management of my appearance."

Irritated at Dorian's vanity, Quatermain reached out to grab a hold of one of the hair pins, only to have his hand viciously smacked by the timeless Briton. "I'll not have you running about my house looking like that, you damn nancy boy!" Allan snapped, his hand sneaking out again.

A gasp of surprise came from Sawyer's lips when he viewed the immortal's new hairdo, but an instant later it turned into laughter, intensifying when Allan began to battle Gray to remove the pins. Tears of amusement and pain soon began to fall down the young agent's face as he slowly slid down to the bottom of the elevator, unable to stand up any longer. Despite the misery it caused his mid-section, Tom couldn't stop his hysterical laughter.

Quatermain's acute hearing picked up on Sawyer's slight groans of pain between the laughter, forcing the adventurer to shove Gray back into his room. "You damn idiot, you're causing the boy to hurt himself!"

Hastily pulling out a handkerchief from one of his pockets, the hunter crushed the fabric into Sawyer's hand as he entered the lift. "Take it easy, Thomas. Take deep breaths and relax."

Unable to speak, Tom only nodded, wiping his face with the hanky. He could feel his adopted father's strong hands on the sides of his shoulders, helping to lift him up off the elevator floor.

"Maybe we should get you back to bed," Allan said in a worried tone as he helped steady the young American.

"No...I'll be okay," Sawyer managed to get out, his laughter finally ebbing. Taking in as deep a breath as he could manage, the spy gave Quatermain a wink. "They always say '_laughter is the best_ _medicine_'."

"Remember that saying when you're sore in a few hours," the seasoned explorer mumbled in reply.

"Then I better be eatin' that great smellin' breakfast before I do get sore."

Not willing to admit defeat, Quatermain shrugged his large shoulders. "If I don't take you downstairs, Mrs. Jones will make _'me'_ sore for making you miss the breakfast she made for you." About to push the down button, he gave the younger man a quick glance. "Prepare yourself for the jolt, son."

Grasping the hand rail with both hands, the young man did his best to stand in a position to diminish the brief jarring the lift would cause to his body. "Ready and willin'," Tom answered with a cocky grin.

The hunter reluctantly pressed the button, watching Sawyer's facial expressions. He knew the lad would put on a brave face, but Allan still worried if all this was too soon. The ride downstairs only lasted a moment, and the only sign of discomfort Quatermain saw was at the landing. Tom clamped his eyes shut briefly, his grip on the railing turning his knuckles white from the pressure.

Opening his eyes, Sawyer inwardly scolded himself for the troubled look he saw on Allan's face. The motion from the elevator hurt like hell, but he thought he had done his best to hide the discomfort. "I'm fine, really," the American agent assured his father, taking the initiative to leave the confines of the elevator first.

"No bravado, Thomas...please," Quatermain said in a quiet tone. "Watching you suffer in silence doesn't help at all."

"I've been a good boy these past few days," Sawyer answered with a smile. "I've done everythin' you and Dr. Jekyll told me to do... and not to do. Just gotta get the stiffness out, that's all."

A dark brow rose in question. "Everything? No getting out of bed unsupervised, even once?"

Tom's mouth quirked into a crooked grin. "I ain't gonna lie by sayin' the thought didn't cross my mind, but if you'n Jekyll weren't babysittin' me, Skinner was." The spy reached out slowly into open air, and made contact with something solid. "Like Skinner is now," Sawyer boasted, enjoying the shocked sound the invisible rogue made.

"You knew all along I was in the room?" Rodney asked incredulously. "I made damn sure I didn't make any sounds."

Placing a hand on where he thought Skinner's shoulder was, and discovering he was correct, Sawyer gave it a light squeeze. "I'm gonna do my best to see to it that you don't '_disappear_' from me," the young agent said fervently. "You're as tangible as any of us, don't go fearin' that anymore." Allan stared in puzzlement, but did not get a chance to enquire.

"Cor, you...you knew what I was dreaming on the ship...didn't you!" Skinner cried out in realization. "I felt you in my mind back when me and Gray were in the park. What parts did you see?"

Sawyer gave a solemn nod. "I felt all of the League inside my head, and what you all dreamt on the Nautilus. The others saw themselves kill me, but your dream was different." He paused a moment before speaking again, recalling the disturbing dream his invisible friend had. "You saw me walkin' through a fog, about to fall to my death because I couldn't see the precipice..."

"I was close enough to grab you," Skinner recited grimly, "but my hand went through your body like I was a vapor. You kept walking nearer to the edge of the cliff, and I kept grabbing for you, even tried yelling at you to stop. Blimey, I was screaming bloody murder, but I wasn't making a sound." Grateful no one could see the tears of shame and frustration stinging at his eyes, the rouge failed in trying to control the emotion in his voice. "You were going to die, and I couldn't do a damn thing to help you... It was like I wasn't a part of the human world anymore."

The hand on Rodney's shoulder gave a gentle pressure again. "I felt everythin' you were feelin', Skinner," Tom explained, his tone comforting. "I know the fear you had for me, and for yourself. You're scared of disappearin' totally, unable to make any contact with anythin' whatsoever. It was only your fears talkin', not reality."

"With the invisibility potion, you can't know what will happen," the thief began to insist. "Look what it did to the bloke who made it!"

"You're a member of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen," Quatermain reminded his teammate. "We won't let you go down that road alone, even if you annoy the hell out of us sometimes."

Quickly wiping at his damp eyes, Skinner smiled to himself, anxious to turn the conversation in a different direction. "Well, I should say so, since you let Sawyer get away with doing it."

"Hey!" the young American jabbed back in mock indignation. "I wasn't the one who messed up Dorian's hair...and used my '_tools_' to boot!"

"Tools?" Both Allan and Skinner echoed in confusion.

The blonde agent pointed to his mop of loose curls. "Those hair pins do come in handy when you find yourself chained to somethin' you'd rather not be."

"That would explain why you were so cocky back at Barlow's hideout," the old explorer had to chuckle. "I wouldn't think to search through someone's hair for a means of escape."

"I'm countin' on others thinkin' that way too," Tom smiled big. Hearing an audible grumble coming from his stomach, the American pointed in the direction of the dining area.

"I'm also countin' on eatin' some straight from the oven home cookin'."

The three men continued to the spacious dining area, and found the rest of the League, sans Dorian, already sitting down at the long, antique walnut table. Nemo rose from his chair when he saw Tom entering the room.

"It is truly a welcome change to have you joining us, Sawyer," the captain said with a slight bow. "I must admit that the table conversations have been a bit on the quiet side without you."

Tom smiled back shyly at the regal seafarer while taking a seat at the table. "Thanks, Cap'n," he replied. "Feels good to be back in the thick of things."

"Within reason," Quatermain intoned beside his adoptive son. "You are still under watch, young man." The hunter turned his attention behind him. "Skinner, get a damn coat or something on. You know my rules about wandering around naked."

A smattering of laughter was heard before the invisible man donned a nearby robe hanging over the back of a chair. "I came prepared, Allan," Skinner said jovially.

"Your face as well," the explorer nudged. "Mrs. Jones can only take so much– "

"Relax, I have it all under control." Rodney pulled out his can of grease paint from a pocket of the robe. "Even made sure it was the '_natural_' shade. No screaming, or dropping of food this time."

"Good man!" Allan nodded in approval.

Within minutes the large table was filled with different varieties of food carried in by Quatermain's household staff. All of the League's unique tastes were represented at this morning feast, a request made by the famed hunter himself.

Giving Mrs. Jones a charming smile, Sawyer shrugged his shoulders as he took in the massive amount of food. "Everythin' looks so good, Miz Maddie, I don't know where to begin!"

His praise was rewarded with a gentle pinch to his cheek, and a beaming smile from the head housekeeper.

"Just follow my lead, Tom," Rodney suggested, grabbing a small amount off every tray that was passed to him. "I can't make up my mind either, so that just leaves eating everything in sight."

"Isn't Dorian going to join us?" Mina suddenly asked, her face a mask of curiosity.

The comment caused a few snickers from Sawyer and Skinner, but a frown of disgust from Quatermain.

"Didn't he enjoy his visage this morning?" the half-vampire inquired innocently.

"You did that?" Tom cried out in surprise.

A wicked grin overcame her pale features as she took a bite of her scone. "Lets just say I felt motivated," she replied coyly, remembering the immortal's ungentlemanly dropping of her inside the Barlow gang's hideout.

Allan was about to give the vampiress a scolding for her antics, and the temporary pain it caused his son, but he felt Sawyer's hand squeeze his forearm, and saw the spy's hazel eyes imploring the older man to let it go. There was no harm done.

As the morning meal progressed, Tom watched the others, pleased to see the light banter and relaxed air returning to the group. He had known all along that if they could see past their own histories, the League could defeat Twazul. The blonde agent smiled to himself. Perhaps his friends having to face their fears will now help them to heal the deep scars they each carried.

"Why are you looking like an imbecile for?" Gray snapped towards Sawyer as he took his seat at the table.

"Oh, just thinkin'."

"Please don't do that," the immortal mocked. "If you injure yourself anymore, we'll all have to suffer...again...with Quatermain's overly dramatic moodiness."

"I'm over dramatic?" the old adventurer huffed. "Who had a bloody sissy fit over his hair this morning?" The comment caused Tom, Rodney, and Mina to burst into laughter while Dr. Jekyll, and Captain Nemo looked on in confusion.

"Mina?" Dorian asked out loud. Why would she be laughing like she had seen his defiled locks? The answer smacked the ageless Briton harder than his reflection in the mirror did. The prim and proper Mrs. Harker had done this dastardly deed to his person?

"Mr. Quatermain," Mr. Jones, the head of the household staff, interrupted with a cautious glance behind him, "a Mr. Umbopa and a Mr. Majeel are requesting an audience with the League."

Allan dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. "Bring them into the parlor," he suggested, "and see if they need anything. We'll be in shortly."

"Right away, Sir." Mr. Jones hurried from the dinning room, while his wife and the other maids busied themselves with clearing away the table.

"That's a long way from home for them," Tom mused out loud. "We had Cap'n Nemo's submarine to help us get to London quick, so how you suppose they got here so fast?"

"Let's go find out," Quatermain said with a meaningful glance to every League member. "Are you all with me?"

"Why shouldn't we be?" Rodney asked before being silenced by the expressions on his teammates. Except for Tom, Quatermain, and himself, the others appeared to be apprehensive, as if going into the pallor would cause some sort of discomfort. "What's wrong with the rest of you? Twazie's dead, we won the day."

Sawyer read the faces of his friends, and decided enough was enough. Rising from his chair slowly and smacking his palms upon the dining room table for effect, the American spy was determined to vanquish any trace of Twazul's fear from his second family.

"I know what all of you dreamt about me on the Nautilus," Tom began. Seeing the guilty looks overtaking his comrades, he continued, certain he had hit the right nerve. "When Twazul touched my wrist, for some reason I felt every one of you inside my head. I relived the dreams you had, and why you wanted to kill me."

"Tom, please, enough of this," Mina interrupted in a sorrowful tone. "I bear enough hate within myself..."

"There's nothin' to hate yourself for," the young blonde spoke quietly, giving the vampiress a light smile. "Twazul was messin' with your minds, usin' me to drag you down deeper. What you were fightin' were your own fears, not me. He wanted to make you ashamed, fearful of becomin' what you are most terrified of."

"Yes, yes, you've said that nonsense before," Dorian huffed out. "Can your annoying perkiness ebb?"

Undeterred, Sawyer pressed on. "We all have pasts we're not proud of, and we can't change any of that. I want us all from this point to press on with who we are now." The American spy met each of his teammate's eyes. "There's no hard feelin's on my end, and I'm sure gettin' sick of you all tip-toein' around because you feel guilty."

"Did...did you see my entire dream?" Henry asked nervously, recalling his admitted crush on Mina and how Hyde had dismembered Tom.

"Yeah," the spy nodded with a small grin. "Oh, tell Hyde it'll take a bit more to rip me into pieces. He didn't seem to have his heart totally in it, and his theories on other matters are way off." Tom cast his eyes briefly in Mina's direction, causing the doctor to blush.

'_Why that mouthy toddler!'_ Edward Hyde blustered in the back of Dr. Jekyll's mind. _'He's bloody lucky it was only a dream! Bah! I wouldn't bother wasting the formula on an insignificant challenge like him!'_

His chest swelling with fatherly pride over Tom's words, Quatermain nodded, and gestured for his team to follow him into the pallor. "Now that all this dream nonsense is settled, let's find out about our unanswered questions, and put this episode behind us once and for all."

There was a small pause, then the remainder of the League rose purposely from their chairs, and fell into step with their leader.


	12. Chapter 12

This is the final chapter! Thanks and many hugs to the wonderful Ten Mara for beta reading this! A true gem!

I'd like to thank all those who have reviewed this story! Hope this ending pleases you!

This chapter is dedicated to the Tazinator...you will be missed!

CHAPTER 12

The minute Quatermain entered the parlor, King Umbopa rose from the settee and greeted the old adventurer with a large smile. "I cannot express how good it is to see you face to face," the African said as he grasped Allan by the shoulders, "and now my spirit can rest more peacefully knowing you and the ones you care about are safe."

"You mean to say ol' Allan cares about the rest of us?" Skinner quipped as he walked in with Tom beside him.

"More than he wants to admit," King Umbopa replied as Quatermain glared back at the invisible man to be quiet, "but my old friend is not the only one who has been hiding their true feelings."

Seeing the League members fidget nervously from the comment, Majeel hurried to ease the uncomfortable atmosphere. "You all are connected to each other in some way, and that is why '_together_' you were able to defeat Twazul."

"Together?" Mina questioned bitterly. "We were under Twazul's spell, and poor Tom was left to deal with that horrible man by himself."

"True, but even your fears could not stop the connection to your youngest member."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Enough of all this mystical double speak," the immortal said with irritation. "Why was Sawyer inside my mind? I felt pain, and then I collapsed upon a dirty street; in front of ruffians no less."

"Me too," Skinner chimed in. "I felt Tom hurting as real as if it were me."

"I also felt young Sawyer's pain before everything went black," Nemo supplied, amid Jekyll's and Mina's astonished admissions of the same occurrence.

Tom glanced down at his wrist, eyeing the cut he had received when Skinner freed him back at Sir Henry's estate. "Twazul wasn't allowed to hurt me," the young spy said in realization. "When he touched my cut, it caused me pain. Is that why he lost his powers, and the others were set free?"

With a soft chuckle, Majeel shook his head, and pointed to the settee. "First, young one, you must sit and rest yourself. All is not healed inside your body." When Sawyer looked to argue the point, the tribal priest gestured more firmly. "Sit first, then your answers."

"Do as he says, Thomas," Allan agreed, trying to gently steer the American in the direction of the furniture. He smiled when he heard the audible sigh coming from his adopted son's mouth. Majeel's order would be reluctantly obeyed. The witch doctor then motioned for the remaining League members to follow suit before he would speak another word.

Majeel turned to Sawyer and addressed his question when everyone had found a place to sit. "Twazul was not allowed to harm you, but you had agreed to be his prisoner. When he touched your injured wrist, he was not breaking the spell."

"That's what Twazul meant when he said some smaller details would be overridden when I agreed to his deal," Tom recalled. "Then why did he lose his powers?"

"Your friends freed themselves when they felt your pain," the African mystic replied, his black eyes sweeping over the others. "Because of my spell, the link to your teammates was heightened, and when they willingly broke Twazul's hold, it was too much for even his powers to control. There was a psychic explosion, causing your friends to fall comatose briefly, and for you to feel them inside your mind, experiencing what they were feeling."

"So young Sawyer was the catalyst to breaking free of that monster's grip?" Nemo surmised. "Is that why we dreamt of killing him before reaching England's shore?"

"Yes," King Umbopa acknowledged. "Twazul was trying to shame you so deeply through your fears that you would not react when your youngest needed you most."

Rodney scratched at his bald head in bewilderment. "Huh? Tom was the one under the spell of protection, he didn't need us."

"But he did. By conceding to be Twazul's captive, your teammate was placing his life in mortal danger. When you all felt the pain, it caused you to forget your own fears, and to instead fear for him. Twazul was using most of his mind powers to keep all of you his pawns, so you all subconsciously felt the evil he had planned...and acted when he made contact with the young one's injured wrist."

"That's ridiculous!" Dorian huffed. "Skinner and I weren't under any mind power...I know I didn't '_sense'_ anything about Twazul's evil towards that American whelp."

"Hey now," Skinner argued with the immortal, "you said so yourself you didn't feel Twazul's presence in your mind anymore after we woke up." Tipping his head towards Umbopa, the invisible rogue smirked. "And the king bloke said it was all subconscious anyhow. We wouldn't have know it."

"Do you even know what 'subconscious' means?" Gray snarled, inwardly fuming at being bested by- in his view- a sub-species of human.

"You obviously don't," Rodney shot back.

"Inside my mind, I saw Thomas lying hurt at that park," Quatermain spoke up, giving a gentle tap upon his adopted son's left shoulder, "and it was exactly where I did find him. Was that left over from the mind control?"

Smiling warmly towards Allan and Tom, Majeel shook his gnarled staff in the old hunter's direction. "Your senses concerning the young one were indeed heightened, but haven't you always known deep inside when he was in danger?"

"Yes!" the fellow League members said in unison, a slight undercurrent of exasperation evident.

"I'm not that bloody bad," Allan said defensively.

"Yes, you are!" they all resounded again.

Sawyer grinned at the adventurer's expression and following grunt of indignation. But his face soon sobered as he asked the question that had been in the forefront of his mind since he found out about the spell of protection placed upon him.

"Mr. Majeel," the youthful spy asked in a quiet tone, "why was I the one picked?"

"I'd like to know as well," Dorian chimed in snidely. "I would have made a better choice since I couldn't be killed."

The African mystic shook his head emphatically. "You would be my last choice," he replied to Dorian with a touch of disdain. "You would only think of the young one's welfare because of yourself. Your other teammates would not have faired as well."

"Yeah, and dreaming of whacking off ol' Dorian wouldn't have caused anyone to have a moment of shame," Skinner quipped, receiving a healthy dose of laughter from the others in response, and a scowl of contempt from the immortal.

King Umbopa sat himself in a chair next to Sawyer, and looked the blonde agent directly in the eyes. "You are the one who is the main link of this group; the one who keeps them together."

"But isn't that Da--, I mean Allan?" Tom questioned. "Hell, there's nothin' extraordinary 'bout me."

"I would disagree strongly," Nemo spoke out, winking when he saw Sawyer's amazed look.

"Even Hyde tolerates you for the most part," Jekyll said with a smile, "and that is no small feat."

"_I just ignore the little runt, and let you deal with all the incessant enthusiasm as punishment," _Hyde grumbled inside the doctor's mind.

"Your drive and optimism have given us _'twisted so and so's' _a reason for fighting on, and to care about why we do," Mina added warmly.

"Cor, I know I wouldn't have near the fun if I didn't have you to help in mischief making, mate," the rogue thief said to Tom with a tip of his black hat.

"And you know how I feel," Allan said to his new son, his face aglow with paternal pride. He gave Sawyer's hair a light tousle when he saw the blush forming on the young man's face.

"C'mon Dorian," Skinner goaded, "say something nice to the kid."

Refusing to look over at his charge, Gray mumbled, "At least you haven't gotten us both killed...yet."

Tom rolled his eyes and smirked in the direction of the British aristocrat. "That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," he said sarcastically. When he met the faces of his other teammates, his appreciation for their comments was sincere. "Thanks," he spoke again, his gaze finally resting on Allan. "I know all of you sure mean a lot to me..."

"Now it is time to rest," Majeel said suddenly, standing in front of Sawyer and waving his wooden staff. Instantly the blonde American went slack in deep sleep, but Quatermain and Umbopa caught his body, easing it back into the settee.

"What was that for?" Jekyll asked nervously, taken aback by the abruptness of the mystic's action.

"I wanted my full powers back," the witch doctor replied simply.

"The sleep will also aid in his recovery," King Umbopa added. "He will not awaken until tomorrow."

"Oh, he isn't going to like that," Quatermain muttered, recalling how eager Tom was to be finally out of his bed for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Still, the father side of him was grateful that the boy would at least be getting another day of healing sleep.

Majeel chuckled as he raised his staff over his head. "He won't remember any of what we are about to say, nor will anyone else but you, old friend." Before the renown hunter could question further, the rest of the League began to drift off into sleep.

"It is for the best," the African mystic explained. "They came in contact with a force they aren't in tune with, and it connected with their inner fears. It might've destroyed what progress they made if it was allowed to stay in their minds."

"Was Thomas harmed?" Allan asked worriedly. "The spell of protection should have shielded him, right?"

"The only reason the youngest could deal with the onslaught of the mental explosion was because he has been '_touched_' by Quatermain blood. He had everyone Twazul controlled inside his mind at once, and even with the spell of protection, it would've destroyed him if he wasn't a part of** you**."

"Another reason he was chosen," Umbopa interjected with a smile. "You and Africa are one, and so your '_son'_ reaps some of the benefit of that blessing as well."

"The blood transfusion," Allan remembered, thinking back to a year and a half ago. "Thomas nearly bled to death... I couldn't lose him, so I offered some of my blood to save his life."

"Offered?" Majeel huffed good-naturedly. "More like demanded."

"You think that is what made him your son?" the king countered. "With your dying breath you called him that, and Africa allowed you to come back to him. You had an instant bond with this young man, and that was no coincidence. He needed you as much as you needed him."

Sighing heavily, the adventurer shook his head, and glanced over at the slumbering Secret

Service agent. "You were right back on the Nautilus. I was afraid, and refusing to accept the truth. My male pride did nothing to protect my boy in the end."

The African monarch gestured to Tom's slack form. "Your bravado to battle Twazul alone was more out of fear for him," he said kindly. "It is no secret what this young one means to you, and your willingness to protect him. I was trying to get you to see that by denying your connection, you were going to place him in greater danger."

"I understand that now, Umbopa, in fact, I see a lot of things clearly."

"Did Harry's presence aid in your healing?" the witch doctor asked, surprising Allan at his knowledge of the ghostly visit.

"Was that because of the mental energy too?"

Majeel nodded. "Yes, your mind was more receptive, and it allowed Harry to reach out to you. Now your spirit can rest from the war of guilt and sadness, and begin to focus on the future with your new family."

Quatermain glanced around the room and had to grin. They were quite the family, and it dawned on him how blessed he was to have them...even a tinge of warmth towards Gray filtered in.

Rising from his chair, the explorer grasped the African king's forearm in kinship. "Thank you again, Umbopa."

"It is my pleasure, my old friend," Umbopa replied, returning the grasp. "Once again you have come to Africa's aid, and to mine. If Twazul's plans had been realized, no one could have stood against him."

"I think that honor goes to Thomas," Quatermain said with a fond look in the direction of the spy. "It still amazes me what that boy is capable of."

"He's like his father," Majeel said deliberately, patting the old adventurer on the back. After shaking hands in parting, the mystic turned to the king. "We should be going. It is a long trip back home."

"I was hoping you both could stay until after..." Allan spoke hesitantly. Seeing their curious looks, he cleared his throat. "I'm officially adopting Thomas as soon as he is able to make the trip into London, and I was planning on having a bit of a small party...to celebrate."

"We would be honored," Umbopa said with a big smile. "I have long prayed for this day, and now that it is finally here, I would not miss it!"

"I'll have the staff get two rooms ready, and send for your belongings at wherever you've been staying at." Pausing, the famous Briton rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Bloody hell, I'm going to throw a '_party_'. Can you imagine that?"

"Amazing, this coming from a man who only a year and a half ago was going to spend the rest of his days moping in a chair, and coddling a Winchester rifle," Majeel teased, recalling Quatermain's self-imposed exile when he had returned to the living after the fight with Moriarty.

"You should have smacked me up side of the head with that rifle for being a such pig-headed arse," Allan replied with a chuckle. Turning his attention to the young man who had left him the weapon, he bent down and gently scooped up the sleeping American into his arms, taking great care not to cause any undue damage to Tom's battered torso. "I'd better put him to bed if the lad's going to be sleeping for quite some time," he offered in explanation. "Don't think he'll be getting there himself in his condition."

King Umbopa hurried to Allan's aid. "Let me help you..."

"Thank you, but no," the explorer declined politely. "I've done this before, and believe me, I've changed a few things around here to make it easy on myself." Fully experiencing the weight in his arms, Quatermain reneged, his body picking that moment to remind him of his age. "I would appreciate some help opening the elevator, and making sure the boy's bedroom door is open as well."

"Consider it done." Umbopa laughed and walked in front of his old acquaintance.

When the two men had left the pallor, Majeel turned his attention towards the other League members. He waved his wooden staff above his head. "You will awake with no memory of the evil Twazul had placed inside your minds," the mystic spoke out loud, "but you will feel an inner peace for having finally faced your demons...and winning."

The tribal witch doctor smiled in satisfaction as he watched the odd assortment of _'heroes'_ awaken slowly. Despite their pasts, they were able to unite. And all it took was for a young, irrepressible Secret Service Agent to force himself into their midst.

It was all as it should be.

777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

Captain Good shook Sawyer's hand vigorously as he prepared to leave the party that celebrated Tom's formal adoption. "I can't thank you enough, lad, for all you've done," the former Navy man said warmly. He cast a look in his old friend's direction before adding, "but anyone who could get Quatermain to give a damn again has to be special. If you hadn't told Ima about how to help me beat the mind control and then you stopping Twazul for good, I would have lost everyone and everything I held dear."

Tom felt heat rise to his face as he found himself stumped for a response. What the hell could you say after that? "Uhm, glad I was able to help," the spy said sheepishly.

"Help?" Sir Henry's voice bellowed behind the captain. "You did more than that!" The nobleman engulfed the startled young man into a hug. "Welcome to the family, Tom," he said cheerfully, releasing the fortunately now healed American agent. "Don't hesitate to ask for anything."

Winking conspiratorially in Allan's direction, Sawyer found his voice. "Thanks, Sir Henry," he said sincerely, "and I do have one request..."

"Name it, Tom! I'll do all I can to help."

"Could you please tell me sometime what really happened? Y'know, King Solomon's mine...?"

"Thomas..." Quatermain warned his son.

"Sir Henry and I would be more than glad to fill you in on all the details," Good responded to the blonde spy. "I'm afraid our old friend doesn't have much patience for talking about his exploits."

"I'd really appreciate it," Sawyer said with a big smile. "I want to know as much as you can tell me."

King Umbopa and Majeel walked up and joined the small group. The African monarch grasped Tom's right hand and enclosed it between his own two hands, giving it a quick shake. "Whenever you are in my homeland, please know that you are considered a valued friend. Nothing within our power will be denied Allan Quatermain's son," he said in parting.

"Even information," Majeel quipped, smacking Allan on the upper arm. "Your father has been remiss in his duty of setting the record straight on what he has done for Africa."

"What bloody is this?" the adventurer demanded. "Pick on Quatermain day?" A smattering of laughter erupted from the other men at the comment. Allan folded his arms across his chest and feigned an irritated frown.

A movement in the corner of his vision caught Tom's attention, and bowing respectfully to the African king, the youthful agent hurried to shake Majeel's hand before investigating. "I hate to be rude'n all, but I think someone needs help." Everyone exchanged astonished looks as Sawyer rushed off, wondering what could have caused the young man such instant consternation.

Tom came up quickly alongside Mrs. Jones, who was struggling with the weight of her load, and eased the silver tray stacked full with dishes from the startled woman's hands. He even went a step further by asking the head housekeeper to retire for the evening since she looked exhausted from the daunting task of getting a party ready in two days.

When Mrs. Jones gently rebuffed Sawyer's request, the young spy planted a small kiss to the older woman's cheek for added effect, and asked her again to rest...for him. Without a word she obeyed, her cheeks flushed from Tom's concern...and his kiss.

After watching the masterful manipulation of his loyal housekeeper, Allan smiled to himself as he walked his old comrades to the front door. That boy of his certainly was a cheeky one!

"You did good, Allan," Sir Henry grinned, tipping his head in the direction Sawyer had hurried off to. "At first I wondered how this youngster could claim to know you since he had the story of our adventure so twisted beyond truth. I realize now he did it to get me riled up enough to fight back from Twazul's control."

Quatermain groaned under his breath. "How bad was it?" he made himself ask.

"For starters, he had King Umbopa's names mixed up. Tom said his commoner name was Umbopa, but his royal name was Ignosi. Worse yet, I was the great warrior in battle, where you, old boy, was practically quivering in fear."

His mouth tightening into a thin line, the famed hunter held back his fury to stop himself from breaking something in frustration. Damn that novel on King Solomon's mines!

Umbopa threw his head back and laughed. "Your son does have quite the imagination!"

"No, H. Rider Haggard does," Skinner chimed in, ambling up to the group of old acquaintances. "He wrote a bunch of stories on our beloved leader's exploits." An invisible hand lifted a glass filled with scotch towards Quatermain in a gesture of salute. "Mighty entertaining reading too. I laughed so hard I almost had an accident."

Giving the paint covered face of the rogue thief a threatening glower, Quatermain snapped in irritation, "Guests or not, I will kick your bloody arse if you speak another word in the next five minutes!"

"Not another _'my boot up your ass'_ threat again," Sawyer mocked in an overly dramatic fashion as he retook his spot beside his father. "You're gettin' a bit repetitious."

"Hmph! This coming from a brash youngster who overplayed the charm just a few moments ago?" the adventurer scoffed good-naturedly. "That kiss to Mrs. Jones' cheek was a bit over the top."

Tom just winked and smiled. "You oughta be damn glad I'm so adorable. If it wasn't for the fact this party was for me, I think she might've thunked you on the noggin with a skillet for askin' her to put together a shindig in less than three days."

"It had nothing to do with you, boy. I'll have you know that I had quiet the reputation for charming any woman into doing my bidding," Quatermain replied with a bit of bravado.

"Oh really?" Mina quipped from behind the men, with Captain Nemo, Dorian, and Dr. Jekyll joining her. "How did you achieve that? Point to the woman and say _'mine_', before dragging her off by the hair?"

Unfazed by the snickers he heard about him, the famous hunter turned and looked at the vampiric beauty. "You're safe, Mrs. Harker. I'm not the same man I was back then, otherwise you'd know not to question." He smirked when she chose to roll her eyes in reply.

Mrs. Harker allowed the comments to pass...this time...since there were guests present.

His eyes growing big, Sawyer glanced at his father's old friends. "That was never mentioned in any of the stories! I'd like to hear how he'd managed that!" he asked eagerly.

Despite all the harrowing adventures the five older men shared together, their faces showed panic at the idea of sharing the risque stories of Quatermain's _charm_ over the ladies with Tom.

"You look tired, Thomas," Allan hurried to say, giving his acquaintances a meaningful glance to stay quiet on the subject...forever. Damn his big mouth for bringing up the subject! "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Huh?" Sawyer looked at his father in confusion.

Hastily mumbling a chant under his breath, Majeel swept his staff in the direction of the League. Instantly they all froze in suspended animation, with Quatermain being the only one untouched by the spell.

"Memory erase?" Allan guessed, stepping away from his group of heroes. "We better leave before they snap out of it!" Pausing at the old witch doctor's side as they began to exit the home, the explorer winked. "Thanks old friend, I don't think I could face my son again if he heard of some of my sexual exploits...or worse yet, followed in my footsteps!"

"Some of them made me blush, and I'm a Navy man!" Captain Good exclaimed, scurrying out the door to join Sir Henry and King Umbopa outside.

A few members of the former 'Barlow' gang stood by two coaches, prepared to take the distinguished visitors to where they needed to go. Quatermain tipped his head towards their leader, Cedric Barlow, in appreciation of their services, and covertly placed a small wad of money in the startled man's hand.

"You stood by me and my son," Allan whispered back with a hint of a smile. "I don't forget things like that."

Barlow glanced again at the amount of money in his hand and gave a low whistle. "You can count on me and my mates for anything you might need, gov'nor." Pocketing the 'token' of the hunter's gratitude, he jerked his thumb in the direction of the house. "I'll admit that you're the most unusual group of blighters I've ever met, but yet you all seem to...belong with each other."

Allan mulled over Barlow's words for a few moments, amazed at how it had taken so long to reach this point. "One big happy family," the adventurer responded as he turned to leave, giving his old friends one last farewell wave in the same fluid motion.

Once Quatermain entered inside the mansion, the rest of the League broke out of their trances, eyeing each other suspiciously, like something unexplainable had just happened to them. All eyes turned to their leader, who looked at them in return, his face giving away no clues.

"Why are you all standing around gawking at me?" the hunter barked out, pretending to be offended. "The party's over, I'm tired, and since I'm master of this manor...its about damn time you all went to your rooms and retired for the evening as well."

"Don't you mean, '_your rooms', _oh master of the manor?" Dorian shot back snidely.

"As long as you behave yourself, Gray, it's your room. Same goes for the others."

"Does that mean...?" Skinner wondered out loud. "You don't mean that the room I'm staying in is actually '_my'_ room, do you?"

"Yes, I do mean that," Quatermain said with a huff, not wanting this moment to turn emotional. He just wanted to get some sleep since he was finally crashing down from such an exhilarating day. "As long as you buggers stay on the straight and narrow, you'll always have a place here to stay. Now, can we all agree to go to bed?"

"I think dear ol' Dad is gettin' a bit testy," Sawyer chimed in, noting the exhaustion slowly creeping over his father's features. "We can talk about it more tomorrow."

After everyone had exchanged several variations of '_good night_', Tom lingered behind his friends. Not saying a word, he turned and gave the old explorer a quick hug in parting.

Before the young American could break free and race upstairs, Allan pulled his son into a tighter embrace, letting his paternal instincts overtake him without a bit of remorse. "Now get yourself to bed, lad. I'll be up in a few minutes to check on you..."

"I'm a grown man," Sawyer began to protest.

"And I'm a grumpy, older man who can easily beat your arse," Quatermain answered curtly. "Now do as your father says...," he spoke as easily as he had to Harry in the past.

A big smile broke over Tom's face. "Since you put it that way!" The blonde agent hurried up the stairs without further incident.

Pausing before he began his own trek upstairs, Allan Quatermain took a quick glance around the immediate area of his home and grinned to himself.

Home...something he thought he'd never feel about this place again. Yet, it wasn't the building itself that made it that way...it was the people who were now inside it.

His son, his team, his family.

His purpose.

THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Allan Quatermain in "King Solomon's Mine" is much different than the portrayal Sean Connery did in LXG...I was having a bit of literary fun...I was deliberately mixing things up...wink wink.


End file.
